We All Fall Down
by Tiny Q
Summary: Voldemort’s back despite the prophecy and Ginny is the first to know. She is the only one who can protect his intended victims and Voldemort will do anything to stop her. Considering the stakes, why does her family hire Draco, to protect her? D/G
1. Make Up Your Mind

Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: When I first posted this I thought it would be my last story. Luckily I was mistaken. I had intended to finish it before the fifth book came out, but as you can tell it didn't happen. This is now the second version which is OotP friendly. This chapter itself did not change much at all but the second one has some major overhauls. So if you have read this already, please re-read chapter 2. And enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Perhaps the plot but nothing else.

**We All Fall Down**

**  
Chapter 1**

**Make Up Your Mind**

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "Make Up Your Mind" by Theory of a Deadman

o-o-o

"Draco!" Draco Malfoy's mother cried through the evening.

It was storming outside and the wind was howling through the Manor like a banshee. The trees of the forest, not too far from the massive building, were being thrashed about, rustling with anger when the wind gusted. The rain pelted down, drowning the already soaked ground. Hail would come soon. It was inevitable. The night was dark. Far darker than it should have been on a summer night. Lightning struck down, illuminating the darkened grounds of Malfoy Manor casting elongated, unworldly shadows.

Draco Malfoy sat in his office, staring out the window, absorbing it all. The whole scenario brought back memories. Dark and terrible memories he often shoved to the back of his mind, trying desperately to forget. The thrashing of the trees, struggling valiantly, yet receiving the beating of their lives. Their roots, their courage, running deep, stopping the onslaught of nature. The wind howling with rage-

"Draco!" his mother called again, more desperately this time.

Draco snapped out of his revere, leaping to his feet and bolting out of the room. The immaculate halls were cold and dark. The candles placed in their bras did not help as they cast a gloomy, depressing light. He ignored them, just as he ignored how the light flickered as he rushed past.

His mother's room was three levels above, enchanted so he could hear her anywhere on the grounds. Secret passageways and winding stairways were given no heed as Draco hurried through them. As of late they had been traveled far too often.

Draco paused before the double doors and took a deep breath. He never knew what to expect when he opened them and passed through their threshold. He heard her call again. Turning the antique knob he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Narcissa Malfoy was seated in her usual armchair by the fire. The flickering orange light making the hallows of her eyes and face seem deeper, more defined. The half-empty gleam of her eyes more evident, impossible to hide. Every time Draco saw her like this he felt anger burn within him.

Lucius Malfoy, his father, had done this. He wasn't sure of what he had done or how, but he was certain that it had been him. That he had bewitched his wife before he fled. A final act of revenge on his only son.

"Oh Draco," she sighed when her disturbed eyes fell on him. He stepped towards her and knelt down beside her chair. Reaching out, he gently clasped her long, elegant hands, so much like his own, reassuringly. Despite the fact that she was seated right next to the hearth, Narcissa's hands were deathly cold. He felt a chill run down his spine.

"What is it, mother?" he asked softly, searching her eyes, trying to find anything of the strong woman who had raised him. He found no trace of her.

"Why must it storm so, Draco?" she asked, looking into his eyes then past them. He knew her mind was drifting. "Why must the depression fight to hold on? Why can't the light fight back anymore?" He stared at her blankly. "It's coming back, Draco. Darker and more powerful than the last times." She squeezed his hand with crushing strength. He did not pull back. He had not realized his mother still had such strength in her. "And this time the little girl will not be able to stop them."

o-o-o

_"I don't _care_ Harry!" Ginny Weasley shrieked angrily, her long, wet hair whipping in the wind. The rain was pouring down in sheets, soaking right through her clothes down to her skin. She was vaguely aware of it, of the gusting wind. Of the lightning illuminating Harry Potter's confused face. Of the Forbidden Forest moving in the corner of her eye._

_"But Ginny, it's not safe," he tried again, trying to convince her to go in. His glasses were slipping down his nose, unruly hair plastered to his head._

_"I don't care Harry!" she screamed again. "I'm sick of it! I'm sick of everything! I'm sick of you!"_

_"Of me?" he asked in surprise, eyes going wide. He took a step towards her and she stepped back. The small Golden Snitch pendant around her neck swung about as she did so. It had been a gift from him on their one month anniversary. She resisted the urge to tear it off._

_"Yes you," she hissed. "I'm sick of taking the back seat to your life Harry." She pulled the drenching wet hair from her face. "Of coming second after Voldemort or Ron or Hermione or Sirius or Quidditch or anything else that presents itself that seems to fascinate you more than I do."_

_"Ginny," he gasped, eyes going wider than before. She wasn't sure of what she was saying or why she was saying it. All she knew was that it had to come out, like tainted blood from a wound. "That's not true! You mean so much to me!"_

_"Do I Harry?" she demanded. "Do I really? Then why don't you talk to me anymore? Why don't you treat me like I matter to you?"_

_"I didn't realize-" he started but cut off. "Ginny, I had no idea you felt like this. Why didn't you say so before?"_

_"Because I'm a daft idiot, that's why," she snapped. The cold was penetrating into her, making her teeth chatter. She ignored it. "Because I was fooling myself into believing you would never neglect me like this. That I was imaging it all. That it really isn't that bad."_

_"What are you saying, Ginny?" he asked softly, his green, vivid eyes losing their wideness but not their disbelief. "What do you mean?"_

_Ginny opened her mouth to respond but the world lit up. All the darkness and gloom that had surrounded her dropped away. And for the briefest of moments she saw everything so clearly. The shock on Harry's face. The grounds of Hogwarts. The billowing trees._

_Then the pain began with an explosion that threatened to deafen her. Every nerve of her body screamed out in agony and she realized she was screaming as well. The pain was white-hot. She had never felt such agony. All she could do was wish that it would end._

o-o-o

Ginny awoke with a start. Looking around in a sleep induced daze she realized that the thunder rattling the window across the room had awoken her from her turbulent sleep. She shivered violently and sat up on the large couch where she had dozed off moments before. She stared fearfully out at the storm raging violently against the window, threatening to break through and attempt to claim her once more.

It had not been a dream. She knew far to well that it had happened over seven years ago. Yet as to why she was suddenly dreaming about it, Ginny was not sure. She did not want to know. She did not want to remember. She wanted it all to be a memory. Distant to her mind's eye.

'I'm working too hard,' she told herself silently. 'Far too hard.'

There was a knock at the door and Ginny jumped. Looking towards the entrance to her apartment she stood up, clutching her heart. Scolding herself for being so jumpy, she made her way across the dark living room to the hallway.

The lights were out. The sunlight that had once filled the room from outside had long since left. The shadows reached out at her, begging her to join them. She turned on the light, forcing them back, giving the apartment the artificial glow of florescent lights.

Silently padding over to her door, she leaned forward and stared out the tiny peephole. The tinted blue walls of the hallway greeted her eye, illuminated by bright overhead lights. A man was standing a foot from the door, distorted by the rounded glass of the hole.

She pulled back to lock and opened the door.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she gasped, taking in Harry Potter's disturbing state. He was soaked through to the bone. His expensive black cloak sticking to his tall, lean frame and the black shirt that he wore underneath was sticking as well, revealing well-toned abs, the result of years of professional Quidditch. Raven black hair plastered in odd curls to his head. His circular glasses were slipping down his slightly rounded nose reminding Ginny of her dream. Her eyes fell to his green ones.

"There's nothing wrong, Ginny," he said, shaking his head slightly causing water to fly from his longish hair.

"Then why are you here, Harry?" she asked, frowning slightly. He had not come to see her alone for many months. Not since their mutual agreement to stop their dating. This did not, however, mean that she had not seen him. That was impossible when his best friend was her brother and his family practically her own. "And why are you so wet?"

"It's raining outside, Gin," he said, raising an eyebrow as if to state the obvious. She glanced behind her, back into her apartment, to see the rain still pounding hard against her the widow. She turned back to the Boy Who Lived.

"And I suppose you forgot your umbrella," she speculated. Over the last seven years, in which the two had dated on and off for various amounts of time, she had come to know him very well. She knew that even though he could be so powerful magically at times and incredibly clever at others, he still forgot mundane things. Leaving the house on a rainy day without an umbrella was one example. Forgetting dates was another.

"Couldn't find the bloody thing actually," he said darkly. "Knew I would need it, but couldn't find it." He grinned at her. "Isn't that always the way?"

She laughed lightly. "I suppose it is." Ginny wondered briefly as to where all this was going. She knew in her heart that she could not take another breakup. It wasn't that they ever left in anger but it was that just as she thought her life had some stability to it he would leave and it all would be torn to shreds.

Looking over her life though that should not have been such a big deal. The world kept throwing more and more things at her, forcing her to juggle them all, hope to drop nothing important and leave it behind. She had failed on more than a few occasions.

"It's good to hear you laugh again, Gin," he said softly, looking at her wistfully. For some reason she felt uncomfortable under his gaze and crossed her arms over her average sized chest.

"Why are you here, Harry?" she asked again, feeling suddenly tired. She had been working far too hard as of late.

"To see you again, Ginny," he said, smiling slightly. It was a bit of a goofy smile that reminded her of better times. More cheerful times with fewer responsibilities and fewer mistakes on their hands. "To tell you that you're beautiful. That you are the only one who has ever understood the real me." She opened her mouth to protest but he raised his hand. She shut it. "People only ever see Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and frankly I'm sick of it. But when I'm with you Ginny it all falls away. You just see _me_. You see just Harry."

Ginny felt her eyes grow wide. She was not liking the direction that this conversation was taking. Not in the slightest. Images of him dropping to one knee flashed through her mind. Images that at one point in her life would have had her blushing madly and squealing like the school girl she had been. But those times were dead. The twenty-three year old Ginny had realized long ago that fairy tales did not exist. She realized more recently that she did not see her knight in shinning armor in Harry. She saw a knight, yes. But not _her_ knight.

"Harry, stop," she said gently, her voice carrying the strength she had acquired over the years. "It won't work out. It never will. We have been fooling ourselves into thinking it will. But haven't all these years shown us something? It won't work, Harry."

"But we've been through so much together," he responded, moving his large, square hands for emphasis. Hands she had once enjoyed the touch of.

"That's just it," she sighed. "We've been through so much. And what we've done, or haven't done will always be between us. It's like a rift. A rift of pain and regret."

"It isn't all pain and regret," he said earnestly, looking at her with hope. "There was good stuff too. Think of all the saved lives." She noticed how he had not said anything about their own happiness. 'Always the hero,' she thought bitterly.

"Think of all the ones we failed to save," she replied darkly. "All the ones that fell."

"You can't expect to save everyone, Gin. It's impossible." His soft words only caused anger to rise in her heart. 'How can he say that?' she thought angrily. 'They were people. Each and every one of them. Just like me or him. How can he speak as though they were nothing but-' she cut off. Thinking like that would lead her nowhere. It never did. Just bitterness. That was all it ever brought. "Just be happy with what was accomplished."

"I can't," she snapped. "I still feel them, Harry. They're always there. You have no idea what it's like. No clue what I-" Her eyes widened as she cut off, realizing what she was saying. Never before had she said so much.

"No, I don't," he said darkly, a mask passing over his tanned features. "You never told me, Ginny. You always refused. Over seven years and you remain silent." He paused. "And maybe that's what you mean by there is too much between us. There's a big fucking secret between us."

"Harry I-" she started. "You won't understand. You don't understand."

"Obviously," he sneered slightly. Ginny narrowed her eyes. "And this is where all the bitterness in you is coming from lately isn't it?" Ginny's eyes widened once more. "This secret is tearing you apart. Ever since it happened, you've changed."

"Well of course I changed," she snapped. "I was a child. I _grew_ up. And you can't possibly believe that I would remain what I was my entire life."

"Well no. It's just-" he stammered.

"Just what?" Ginny demanded. "I stopped obsessing over you and this upsets you? It would have happened with or without my being fried by that bloody lightning. So stop blaming our relationship problems on that. It's my problem. It has nothing to do with us. So just drop it!"

"But-" Ginny raised an eyebrow, looking into the soaking wet man's face. "I love you, Ginny."

"I know," she whispered, all the anger draining away. "I love you too, but not the way you need me too. I think all this has shown me that I'm not the one for you, Harry. Perhaps that's why it happened in the first place. Who knows? All I know is that you need someone who is not as selfish as I am. Someone who can take better care of you."

"You're not selfish, Ginny," he said softly, down-casting his eyes. "After all you have been through, you could _never_ be selfish." 'If you only knew,' she wanted to say, but held it back. Harry needed to be kept ignorant of all that. He wouldn't understand. It would tear down his perfect little world. And the Boy Who Lived had been through far too much in his life. He deserved his perfect world.

"Just forget about it," she said a little desperately. "All of it. Merlin knows everyone else has. Just leave it and move on. So we can carry on with our lives."

"Our lives apart you mean," he whispered. She almost did not catch it.

"It's for the best," she tried, aching to see his eyes. She could always tell what was going on behind his eyes. Most people could not, but she could. "Look," she said suddenly, the situation coming into full force to her mind. "You're soaking wet. Come in and I'll make you some tea."

He remained silent. Slowly then he rose his head. She saw it in an instant. His vivid green eyes were clouded with regret and remorse. He had given up. No longer would she be seen as Harry Potter's red headed girlfriend. She never would again.

"I'd like that," he said softly, a smile gracing his lips.

"So would I," she responded and held the door open.

o-o-o

The room where Draco Malfoy sat radiated power. From the plaques and awards adorning the white walls, to the large, impeccably clean desk opposite the door. Even the window to the right of the desk was larger than any lower official could dream to own. The man seated behind the desk was no exception to this theme of power. Though in his fifties, Timothy Shaw still held himself as though he could kill a man with one hand. The size of his muscles only added to the effect.

"I have a new assignment for you, Draco," the older man said, running a hand through his receding brown hair. "And I know you are not going to like it."

Draco cocked his right eyebrow at this. "And why would that be, sir?" he asked politely. He trusted the man before him as he had Severus Snape while he had attended Hogwarts. Shaw has a similar dark personality, though he was more commando than professor. In all respects he should have taken offense to the man's biting comments, but in a way Draco could relate. He saw too much of himself in the man to take offense.

"Because it's not the type of assignment you are used to," Shaw elaborated, his bushy eyebrows knotting together. "I am putting you on a research detail."

"Pardon?" Draco asked, losing composure for a moment. The man had been right. He did not like this new assignment. Draco had become far to accustom to his missions. He completed them with pride, relishing the surge of adrenaline and the feeling of accomplishment when the job was complete. But now, to be downgraded to a research detail? It was almost laughable if it was not such a disgrace.

"You heard me," Shaw snapped. "I don't like the idea anymore than you do. But the Ministry is pushing me to send someone in and frankly I am reluctant to put you into a stressful situation." Draco made to protest but his superior silenced him with a look. "I would much rather put you on stress-leave but I know the only way I will have you do that is a suspension order. We both don't want that on your record since the entire situation was out of your control."

"So you'll simply shuffle me to research until you require my abilities once more," Draco said darkly, bitterness resonating in his voice. He knew he should not be making such a grand deal of it all. Shaw was only looking out for Draco's well being. His tactics didn't leave much room for his ego however.

"Don't look at it that way," Shaw replied, his eyebrows loosening. "Think of it as a vacation with direction. It will give you the chance to recover and to help the Wizarding World."

"I have nothing to recover from," Draco sneered slightly. "I am perfectly fine now."

"Draco, you might be able to convince others of that bull but I know you too well," the balding man said sternly, leaning forward in his chair. "You and I both know there is more to it than that. If you don't take the time to recover it will only get worse. And then where will you be? You most definitely will not be able to complete your duties as a Protector any longer. This is for the best. We both know it is."

Draco started at the older man, no expression revealing itself on his face. He knew the man spoke the truth. There was no simple answer for any of it. He could ignore it all he wanted but it would never go away.

"I know," Draco finally replied quietly. "I do not like it in the slightest, but I know." He paused for a moment. "So what is it I will be researching then?"

"Counter curses for the Unforgivable," Shaw said simply, turning his attention to search for something in his desk.

"Can't be done," the blonde replied. "It's a waste of time."

"I wouldn't say that," the older man clucked, pulling the drawer out farther. Though his room was impeccably clean, the Head of the Magical Defense Department was far from organized. "They have made quite a bit of progress. A way to delay the Cruciatus Curse for five seconds before impact. Might not seem like much but a lot can happen in five seconds."

Draco remained silent. He had heard rumors of the project but never thought twice as to whether or not it would succeed. Ever since he was old enough to hold a wand he had been told that the Unforgivable curses were unstoppable. One's only proper weapon of choice. But then that was most likely why Shaw had decided this assignment would be good for him. Draco's background in the Dark Arts. A part of his past he still resented with a passion along with the man responsible for it all.

"Ah, here we are," Shaw's voice cut through Draco's musings. He tossed a manila folder labeled "Top Secret" to the blonde. He took it in his long hands. "All you need to know on the history of the project should be in there. I recommend you look over it. There's some pretty high-end information to go over. But nothing that you can't handle, I'm sure."

"When am I expected?" Draco asked, glancing over the file. Pages and pages of notes and diagrams in a messy hand were in there. He instantly assumed it was a male's writing. It had that edge to it. The messy scrawl also struck him as oddly familiar. But he brushed the feeling off. There was no way the two hands could be related.

"One hour," Shaw said, a dark smile pulling at his lips.

"Not one to leave things to the last minute, are we?" Draco sneered, smirking back at the man.

o-o-o

It was Monday, a day Ginny usually hated with a passion. She despised having to get out of bed when it always felt twice as warm and cozy as it did when she first got in. But as of late she did not mind getting up to go to her job.

She was currently working on the sixth floor of the Department of Mysteries. She knew it was so low down because projects had a nasty habit of exploding. At least with the explosion lower down it would not disrupt the building as it would if it had been on a higher level.

Despite this, Ginny did not mind the implications of her lab's location. She knew she was helping to make a difference in people's lives and at the moment that was all she cared about. What she had had before was gone now but she was determined to not let that be the reason she stopped helping.

She had seen far too many tragedies during Voldemort's last years of terror. So many that it still made the bile in her stomach threaten to rise. Perhaps here, amongst the infinite vials and ingredients she could find a way to prevent others from such terrible ends. Save others from a life like Harry's. Or Neville's.

The lab itself was the Office of Technical Research's largest in the Department of Mysteries. Ginny and her team had access to whatever they thought they might need. All they had to do was ask. At current half the team of six were working to find a potion to stop the Killing Curse. While the other half, Ginny included, were attempting to find a hex to stop the Cruciatus Curse. A five second delay was all they had accomplished so far.

Ginny knew she should be proud of the accomplishment. It was a large step towards stopping the curse completely but that was just it: the hex only delayed the effects. Not deflected it or stopped it. The individual was still hit.

With a heavy sigh she looked over her work table. Paper, parchment and other various objects covered the surface, preventing any portion of the oak to shine through. Reaching out she began to shuffle through the notes. Lifting up portions and replacing them to their original positions. The table had a sense of order to it. Albeit an incomprehensible one.

'All these notes,' she thought darkly, flipping trough a pile on Jarvey anatomy. 'And I only want one.'

With a clatter a large section of the notes fell to the ground. A board with a diagram of the Cruciatus Curse had been teetering on the edge of the table for the past week. It had only been a matter of time before it had fallen. Only it brought about three hundred sheets of notes down with it.

"Shit," Ginny swore softly, getting down on her hands and knees, proceeding to gather them all up in some semblance of order. "I need a filing cabinet," she muttered darkly, as the door to the lab opened. Starting a bit, she looked up from the ground to see a tall man in the doorframe. He could have been of average height but from her lowdown position Ginny could not tell.

The man looked about the lab until his eyes settled on her. A sneer playing across his face. Ginny almost gasped in fear until reality took control of her brain. The man before her looked unmistakably like Lucius Malfoy at a glance.

On closer inspection however, she noticed his platinum-blonde hair was much shorter, though it was slicked back in a similar fashion. Yet he had the same cold, calculating steel-gray eyes looking over her as though she was nothing more than a house elf.

His facial structure was one of the first differences. While his father's face had already been filling out with age, his son's was still lean and aristocratically pointed, giving the sneer on his face a sinister edge. His body was the other difference. Ginny could tell that under the expensive clothes he wore there was a large selection of well-toned muscles. The way he held himself left no doubt in her mind that he knew this. It seemed the older Draco Malfoy spent just as much attention on his looks as his younger self had.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she demanded, not pausing in her gathering.

"Aren't secretaries supposed to be polite, Weasley?" he drawled back, crossing his arms with elegant arrogance. Ginny rolled her eyes at his cocky attitude. The last thing she needed right now was some egotistical prick.

"I am not a secretary," she hissed, stooping lower in order to get a few pieces of parchment that had fallen further under the table. Mentally she swore at herself for wearing such low-cut robes. Or ones with such a high-cut slit.

She could feel his piercing gaze on her and saw him grin with malicious glee out of the corner of her eye. "Janitor then?" he sneered.

"Try head researcher," she snapped, glaring at him with as much venom as she could muster. It was not a difficult task considering who he looked like. A man she had seen in her dreams far too often. For various reasons. The fact that he was her family's sworn enemy helped a bit as well. Or the fact that Harry despised him with a passion she never could understand and doubted she ever would.

Ginny gracefully rose to her feet, not breaking eye contact with the blonde man. He looked her over spitefully. "How did you land _that_ job?" he scoffed accusingly, implying far more then she liked.

"With brains," she said darkly, slapping down the notes in her hand down onto the work table. "A department you are obviously lacking in." She nonchalantly dusted off her cobalt robes.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. "How many of you are there working for the Ministry?" he demanded nastily. Ginny narrowed her eyes as well, not liking the direction of his words. "It's bad enough that your dolt of a father is the Minister for Magic and your insufferable brother is striving to take his place, but you as well? It's bloody nepotism."

"My father is _not_ a dolt," Ginny growled, quickly sweeping the table for her wand. It was no where to be found. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' she thought angrily at herself.

"No, I suspect you fancy him brilliant," the blonde sneered. He sauntered towards her.

"Because he is," she sneered back, moving around the table to stand in front of it. She was not about to cower behind some furniture. It was bad enough the git was insulting her family but she drew the line at being intimidated in her own lab.

"He will always be poor in my eyes, Weasley," he drawled. He completed his trek towards her, stopping but a foot away. His movement brought the scent of his expensive after-shave to her nose. She fought off the instinct to inhale deeply.

Narrowing her eyes, her face turning red, Ginny pulled herself up to her full height. She now stood just shy of eye level to him. 'Perhaps he's not that tall,' she thought impishly, knowing full well her heels gave her four inches, bringing her to six feet.

"What my father lacks, or rather lacked, in material wealth," she snarled, glaring at him, brushing her long bangs from her face. "He makes up for in honor and respectability. Something I know your own father lacks. Didn't he scamper off into hiding after his precious master fell?"

Something dark and malevolent passed over Malfoy's features and his posture shifted slightly. He lowered his head, taking a step forward, bridging the gap between them. She could feel his breath hot on her face.

"Do not speak of things your simple mind can not comprehend in such an offhanded manner," he sneered softly, dangerously. There was an edge to his voice that sent chills down her spine. She resisted the urge to shudder.

"I understand more than you think, ferret," she sneered back in a callous voice. She fought to ignore his close proximity. His scent was intoxicating. She could only imagine- 'Stop it,' she snapped at herself and set her jaw.

"I highly doubt you understand much of anything," he hissed. "Much less my family history."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond. To tell him that she had seen far more about his "family" than she ever wanted to. She shut it once more when a sickening wave of dizziness washed over her. With a soft exhale of breath she stepped back, placing her head in her hands.

"Too much for you Weasel?" Malfoy drawled but Ginny did not pay heed. She was more concerned with the throbbing headache that was plaguing her. Her mouth went suddenly dry and she closed her eyes, clutching her head. A sickeningly familiar feeling ripped through her, bringing with it a tidal wave of terrible memories. Her eyes snapped open and she gasped aloud.

"This can't be happening," she whimpered, wide-eyed. "It was over. It can't start again. Not now."

Then it hit her. The hit she had been half expecting and dreading for almost seven years since it had first stopped. It was a force so powerful feeling as though a cleaving knife had been driven straight through her soul and was slowly twisting. Another was ripping at her heart.

She screamed. Blessed darkness threatening to take hold. Through all the pain and agony she saw _him_. _Him_ and _his_ terrible doings. _His_ vengeful actions.

Ginny felt her legs give way beneath her. She fell forward into the startled arms of Draco Malfoy.

"Not Harry," she moaned in despair before darkness took her conciseness.

o-o-o

A/N: Well that's it. Do you want to know why Ginny's all fainting like? Or why Draco has to go on stress-leave? If you do then please review. This fic will sink or swim depending on you. Hey, that rhymed. I'll just hit myself in the head now...


	2. Sick Cycle Carousel

Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: I had to edit this chapter as well to make it all correspond with the fifth book. I had to change quite a few things, but I will give a list of all that I changed at the beginning of the third chapter for all who are too lazy to reread it. Though as to why I am saying this here I am not quite sure... Anyhoo, I know the lyrics of the song don't really work, but they sort of do...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot lines that will be slowly revealed. Trust me. grin

**We All Fall Down**

**  
Chapter 2**

**Sick Cycle Carousel**

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "Sick Cycle Carousel" by Lifehouse

o-o-o

It was a gloomy sort of day. The rain that had persisted all through the night had drenched the city of London. Large, dark puddles sat in every ditch in the road. The people persevered however, adapting to this none too peculiar weather. Umbrellas were in every hand, heavy sweaters and the likes to keep out the cold on every body.

Yet despite the chill, Harry Potter made his way swiftly through the crowds of Diagon Alley. But in the throngs of people, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. He knew he was being paranoid. People looked wistfully after him everyday. Probably even followed him as well, so why this terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach?

Resisting the urge to turn around and search the crowd for the perpetrator, Harry hastened his already quick steps. Gringotts was coming into view which meant there were only two blocks until he reached his destination: The entrance for the Ministry of Magic building. The road there was just as crowded and he knew that he was safe in a crowd. No one would dare attack him amongst so many witches and wizards.

Yet the tightening of his stomach muscles persisted. He had not felt such a sensation since-

"Harry!" someone called suddenly from his left. With a slight start the Boy Who Lived turned, preparing to see some hoodlum dressed in menacing clothing. He saw quite the opposite however.

"Ron," he greeted his tall red headed friend. The youngest Weasley son waded through the umbrella brandishing crowd to get to him, a broad smile on his face. "What's up?" he asked as the lean man came to a halt before him.

"Not too much," Ron replied with a shrug. "Just heading to HQ, how 'bout you?"

"Same," Harry replied and the two of them began to move through the crowd together. "New job then?" he asked after a moment.

"Sort of," the taller of the two responded. "They want me to help plan security for the World Cup next year. You know, the one you're supposed to be in."

Harry laughed. "We'll see about that." He would never get over his best friend's neurotic interest in Quiddtich. Not that he himself was much better. He had, after all, retired from the Aurors to become a professional player. But Ron took things to a different level. Borderline obsession if you asked him. And ever since Harry had got onto an international team Ron never neglected to bring it up. Some way or another it managed to be weaseled into their conversations.

"Oh come on," Ron said peevishly, the old team spirit he had had during their youth resurfacing once more. "You've pulled the Cannons out of the pits. Why not a world cup to boot?"

"Because I have a feeling Oliver's going to get there first," Harry grinned. "And you know we've never beaten his team"

As they rounded a corner their destination came into view. Unlike the entrance Harry had used to get into the Ministry building when he had first gone there with Mr. Weasley, the Diagon Alley version was much more impressive. And immaculate. The first time Harry had seen it, he had frankly been in shock. Now it was simply another destination. Sometimes he wondered where all his awe of the Wizarding World had gone.

"Wood's tactics are the same as the ones he used at Hogwarts," Ron said earnestly. "You'll beat him tomorrow, I know you will."

"Because you say so, right?" Harry asked innocently. They began to make their way up the two dozen steps to the main doors that loomed sixteen feet into the air. The feeling in his stomach spiked for a moment, startling him. Ron had provided a sound enough distraction that he had momentarily forgotten about it. Yet as he approached the massive building's doors it all came back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the red head demanded and Harry just smiled, trying to push the uneasy feeling from his mind.

"Never mind," he replied, a weak grin tugging at his lips. "You just make sure you cheer extra loud, so I can hear."

Ron Weasley frowned at him. "Whatever." He paused as they past through the building's threshold. "You're coming to Mum's birthday party, right?" he asked, changing the subject as the duo entered the lobby.

Harry noted how his friend did not say "my" mum, but rather simply mum. Molly Weasley had long ago insisted that Harry was a part of the family. She even had an arm on the Weasley clock attached for him. He considered it an honor far better than becoming Seeker for the Chudley Cannons or being honored for defeating Voldemort once and for all. It was an acceptance for who he really was, not simply what he was seen to be or what he had accomplished.

He glanced about the lobby, taking in how it looked just like he had seen it the first time. With the exception of the golden fountain that had been there before he had effectively destroyed it after Sirius' death. But it hadn't been just him after all, he had had the aid of Voldemort and Bellatrix as well. There was now just a pond in the old sculpture's place. The Ministry had been debating over what should take it's place, but had yet to find come to unanimous decision.

"Of course. Any idea what I should get her?" Harry asked, glancing at the individuals who were scattered about the palce. The sensation in his stomach was spiking once more. Yet none of the people present seemed to notice either of the men.

"I think we've got it taken care of," Ron replied offhandedly. Their shoes echoed slightly as they traversed the hardwood floor. "But I'll talk to you about that later. Why are you here any way? I just realized I never asked."

"Your sister wanted me to come in," Harry explained, fighting off the wave of depression that came with the words.

He wasn't exactly sure why he had gone to the woman's door in the first place. He had known that nothing would come of it. Still he had gone. Perhaps there had been too much alcohol in his system. Either way it was a rather embarrassing situation. The entire Weasley clan had found out about it quite quickly. Ginny must have mentioned something. Though most of the Weasley males had accepted the situation, Molly Weasley was still pitted on the idea of Harry and Ginny living happily ever after together. An ending Harry knew would never come.

"I still can't believe she said that to you though," Ron stated darkly. His posture shifted to show Harry the tell-tale sign of Weasley anger. The entire family held their shoulders differently when they were in rage. Ron's were the most noticeable of the lot. And Harry had had ample time to tell the difference. "I just don't know what has gotten into her lately."

"I don't think anyone does," Harry uttered darkly, his shoulders sagging. He had been stupid to think that Ron's little sister would have melted into his arms. She only had once before but that had been back at the beginning of it all.

The two old friends made the rest of their individual journeys in silence. Once at the elevators they went their separate ways, the red head heading to level seven, his duties as a freelance strategist calling once more. Yet as for Harry he traveled down to level nine, to the Department of Mysteries. To the hall that had haunted his dreams for almost an entire school year. He had sworn to himself after it had all passed that he would never come here again, yet here he was walking towards that damned door to get to the red head he had allowed to slip through his fingers.

Deep down in himself he knew she had been right the night he had visited her. Looking back he had noticed the signs yet had refused to acknowledge them. 'As stubborn as ever,' he thought bitterly.

A scream sliced down the silence of the hall, suddenly jarring his thoughts. It had been Ginny's scream. The same scream that haunted his dreams at night along with that of his mothers...

"Ah hell," he swore and bolted full speed down the hall towards Ginny's lab.

o-o-o

Draco Malfoy's eyes widened as Ginny Weasley sagged into him. Half her body pressing into his own, every inch of contact sending chills through his body as though the woman were made of ice. Instantly his arms flew up, supporting her by the lower back and shoulders, relishing in the peculiar sensation. For the briefest of instants he stood perfectly still, with her in his arms.

The reality returned to him.

"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself, looking down at the unconscious woman. He frowned down at her horrendously ugly hair color. "She's a Weasley."

Shifting his arms to grasp Ginny's shoulders, he violently tore her away from him, causing her head to loll to one side. He held her at arms length, noticing that his hands were experiencing the same sensation that the rest of his body had moments before. It was almost as though the woman had been sculpted from ice and covered in skin so you would think her a normal human. He shook the thought from his head.

"Weasley," he growled, shaking her none too gently in an attempt to wake her. He acted as though if he could cause the woman harm the feeling through his body would stop. That she would feel normal. "Weasley, wake up."

She did not respond in any way.

Draco looked at his enemy's younger sister, narrowing his eyes. The woman was pale and skinny, stretched out by her excessive height. He felt a sneer pull at his lips. 'She's no better than any of the rest of them,' he thought, his eyes travelling the length of her body. They came to rest at her chest.

The material had pulled away slightly to reveal a small portion of an odd sort of mark around where her heart should be. Curiosity piqued, he shifted the woman's weight so he could use his right hand to pull away the material fully.

He was carefully reaching out when the door behind him slammed open. He shot his hand back to the woman's other arm, concluding that he would simply have to find out what the mark was later. If there even would be a later.

He snapped his head about to see Harry Potter rushing into the room. It was as if the Weasley had called him to her when she had fainted. The raven haired man stopped quite suddenly when his eyes fell on the blonde in the center of the room.

"Malfoy?" Potter demanded. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Draco stared at the man coolly as though it were common place to hold an unconscious woman in her own lab. "I was sent here on a research detail," he sneered. "Now come here and take this bloody thing away from me, Potter." He held the Weasley out to him.

Potter frowned at him, his lips twitching upwards in an almost sneer. It was a facial expression that Draco knew the other man could never achieve. Potter then looked down at the proffered unconscious body and seemed to push their rivalry from his mind. His eyes widened then began to dart about the room, reminding Draco of the times when they had played Quidditch back at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor's eyes moved so bloody fast, always calculating or dismissing.

The green behind the round glasses finally came to a rest and the man hurried forward in the direction of his gaze. A side bag was resting on a chair by the table Weasley had been behind. Potter went to it, opened it hastily and began to rummage through the contents. It took Draco a moment to realize that it was the red head's purse.

"You're a real piece of work, Potter," he sneered at the other man. "Damn klepto-"

"Save it," the other man snapped, withdrawing a small box from the bag. "Can you carry her?"

"What kind of-" Draco began.

"She doesn't have time for your arrogant bull shit, Malfoy," Potter snarled angrily, those green eyes flashing. "Either carry her or give her to me."

Draco glared at the other man then silently scooped the woman into his arms. She was lighter than he expected her to be. 'Underfed trash,' he thought darkly, sneering at Potter. The other man had opened the little box in his hands and held it out.

"Portkey," he said simply, following Draco's gaze as he stared at the small, golden globe contained within.

"I can see that," he growled.

"Good," the other said simply, grabbing one of Weasley's limp hands and grabbing the small globe at the same time. Before the box could fall to the ground Draco felt the usual tug at his navel and set his jaw.

He hated Portkeys. They always made him uneasy. That horrible feeling of being pulled about by Merlin knows what. And more often than not, Merlin knows where.

An instant later, Draco stumbled onto solid ground, Weasley still in his arms. They had materialized in a large white room. It seemed to be a waiting room of some sort. There were a few chairs, a fireplace with a roaring fire and a large receptions desk clear of clutter. All were vacant however. Potter straightened up beside him, seeming about ready to scream bloody murder.

There was no need however, for a woman came running around the corner to their right, a floating stretcher in tow. Draco recognized her short black bob and impish face instantly. Despite the fact that she now had sleek glasses before her startlingly tawny eyes she was still the same woman he had met while associating with the Order. 'Hestia Jones,' he thought mentally. 'One of the larger thorns in father's side.'

It had been this woman who had been one of the key players in thwarting Lucius Malfoy's first attempt to escape Azkaban. No one was quite sure what had exactly happened, but his old man had been recaptured and sent back. After that he had sworn that he would get the woman, though he apparently never got the chance for here she stood.

"It figures," the woman said darkly, hurrying towards them. "I haven't taken this shift in ages, and now that I do something happens." She stopped in front of Draco and frowned at him gently. "Put her down." She gestured towards the stretcher and he obliged without a moment's hesitation. The black haired woman then turned and whisked the Weasley off back the way she had initially come from. Draco stared after them.

"Alright Malfoy," Potter said suddenly, causing the blonde to turn and look at him. "I need to know exactly what Ginny said before she collapsed."

Draco stared at the Boy Who Lived for a moment, weighing his options. He had no idea as to what was going on. The suspicious side of him feared that what ever he said could somehow be used against him. The Slytherin side. Yet deep in his stomach he felt the encounter had been far too odd to be pinned on him directly. This was the Protector in him speaking. A voice that had taken years to trust.

"First I want to know what is going on, Potter," he sneered, narrowing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, to voice his views on why he should not trust the man. But he never got the chance.

"I don't care what you want," Potter snapped so violently that Draco's eyes almost widened with shock. He hadn't heard the other man speak like that in ages. But then, he hadn't been around him that much either. "Lives are on the line, Malfoy. Now tell me, what did Ginny say?"

Draco paused. "She said that it couldn't be happening again," he finally complied, not fully aware as to why. He owed nothing to this man. If anything, it was the other way around. "And that it was over." He paused once more, frowning. "And then she said your name."

Potter stopped moving and stood perfectly still. "My name?" he asked, all emotion draining from his voice and face. His posture seemed numb.

"That's what I said," Draco snapped. "Now what-"

"Harry," the woman who had left moments before called, returning to the room they occupied. "You don't think that it's really happening again? There is no way that he could be back. You killed him."

"I know," Potter said darkly, something passing across his face. Draco knew the man was restraining something. It was an experience he knew well himself. "But why else would she collapse like that?"

The confusion within Draco was growing. So was the annoyance. It had always been a fault of his to be impatient, or so his father had said. He hated situations where he did not know what was going on or that he had to wait for information to find out. And at the moment all he knew was that a member of the Weasley family had collapsed into him and now Potter and Jones were involved. Involved and going on as though the apocalypse was upon them all.

_It's coming back Draco. Darker and more terrible than the last times. _ His mother's voice echoed in his head. _And this time the little girl won't be able to stop it._ 'There can't be a connection,' he thought silently, the pressure of dread beginning to press down on his heart. There had been times in his past when his mother had been able to predict things. Scrapped knees, falling out of trees, what the radio would say next. He had always assumed it to be mother's intuition. But now-

"Who is it?" Hestia Jones asked earnestly, interrupting the blonde's thoughts. "Who is going to be the first? If he really is back I mean."

Draco now focused in on her words, hoping that they would bring him some clarity on the situation. That perhaps what he thought to be the "first" was completely off in left field. Even if it did appeared to be Potter himself.

"Me," the other man replied simply.

"No," the woman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The light of the fire catching at a simple gold band on her ring finger, making it seem more than it was. "They can't- There's no way-"

Emotion was still devoid from Potter's face. It was rather disconcerting from Draco's perspective. He never could, nor would, get used to the other man's dark side. He had brushed against it during his school years and had always silently dreaded a full encounter.

"It makes sense," Potter said quietly, with a slight shrug. "If they want to make a comeback, why not take down the one who supposedly defeated them for good in the first place?"

"But they can't," the woman repeated.

"What the hell is going on?" Draco demanded suddenly. The entire scenario had become cumbersome. He wanted to know exactly what was going on and he was sick of waiting for the two of them to turn to him and explain in full. If forcing it out of the two individuals before him was the only way, then that was what was going to happen. "Who are "they"?"

Both Potter and Jones turned to him, annoyance and surprise respectably on their faces.

"Who do you think?" Potter demanded. "Who keeps being defeated only to return a few years later, stronger than ever?"

"Voldemort?" Draco offered. But then- "But you defeated him. The prophecy said you would." Something else occurred to him. "And how does Weasley know?"

The two of them looked at Draco as though he had simply stated that humans have tails. After a moment, Potter's eyes began to fill with a triumphant glee that Draco did not like in the slightest.

"You really don't know, do you?" he asked quietly. Draco was about to say something caustic but the raven haired man continued. "You joined our side and they never told you. I never thought Dumbledore had it in him to lie."

"What does Dumbledore have to do with any of this?" the blonde demanded. Not so pleasant memories began to present themselves in his mind's eye. _I don't want to be anything like my father… My dear boy, you have never shown any evidence of the contrary_. Had they really not trusted him? Had the Order always thought him to be some sort of mole? A mole for his father and the Dark Lord? He felt anger begin to rise at the mere thought.

"Do you remember," Potter began after a short snort. "At the beginning of our seventh year? How people across Europe begun to receive owls?" Draco frowned. At first they had been a rumor. He had never seen any proof to their existence. Not a shred until one landed on his window sill, late one January night. "How they would-"

"HARRY!" Weasley's voice sliced through the air, echoing down the hall. Draco started slightly while Jones jumped several inches. Potter's eyes grew wide in shock. An instant later both he and Jones were barreling down the hall to where the unconscious woman had been taken.

Draco found he was hot on their heels. Not quite aware as to why it would matter to him what the woman had been screaming about. But follow him he did, curiosity seeming to take control of his usual reserved self. 'I'm going insane,' Draco concluded in his head as the two people before him hurried through an open door that had been around the corner.

Weasley was sitting straight up on the bed she had obviously been place. Her partly exposed chest heaving heavily while her back was perfectly straight. Her long hair hung down about her, creating a veil of red that obscured her features. Yet under it Draco could just make out that her skin was as pale as death. Her chocolate brown eyes were circular, darting about the room, completely ignoring the matron who was attempting to calm her.

Her posture was far too familiar in Draco's eyes. It began to bring back memories of when this entire landslide if a lifestyle had begun. The Weasley's eyes fell on the three of them through her veil of hair.

"Cancel the Quidditch match," she demanded shrilly, staring directly at Potter.

"What? Ginny I can't-" the other man began to stutter.

"Cancel the Quidditch match, NOW!" Weasley practically screamed, flinging her head back, forcing the hair from her face. The woman beside him gasped as the trickle of blood out of the corner of Weasley's eye was revealed.

Potter looked on in horror, his mouth opening and closing, making silent words.

"NOW!" the woman screamed once more. With a sudden swirl of his cloak, the black haired man turned and quickly headed back the way he had come.

Draco stared at the woman in awe. He never would have thought her capable of such vehemence. Her sharp tongue from before had been a bit of a surprise but it made sense since she had so many brothers. But this- This was borderline insanity. An instability of the mind with a deep desperation of some sort.

'How many people must be driven mad by that bastard?" he found himself wondering as he observed the woman from where he stood. Minutes went by in a blur of flurried thought and anguish. It was almost like a nightmare. The situation was far too similar that it began to drag up all the memories and constant reminders. _We do not know what is wrong... Her mind is simply gone... We do not know how it is possible…_

A shift in the air brought Draco from his memories. Forcing himself to turn he saw Potter return to stand a short distance away. Draco took a step towards him.

"Alright Potter," he growled, narrowing his eyes. "What the _fuck_ is going on?"

Potter looked at him as though he were some disgusting insect. "Don't you see, Malfoy?" he spat. His lips curled back to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth. "Ginny's the one who sent all those owls. Ginny's the one who saw all of Voldemort's victims. And now the bastard's back and she has to live that hell all over again."

"She's…" Draco trailed off, staring at the pale woman in a new light. He never imagined it could have been a Weasley behind it all. Let alone Potter's scrawny girlfriend. From what he could remember the way she had been back then made him believe that she would have cracked. "She's the one with the Snitch signature?"

"Yes," Potter snarled. "And as I understand it, you-"

His voice was drowned out as Weasley's scream penetrated Draco's brain once more. Every occupant of the room stopped in their tracks and stared. The red head began to wither on the bed, her voice cutting off in her throat.

"How can she have another one so soon?" the matron who had been in the room when they had arrived asked from bedside the bedded woman.

Potter walked up to the bed. Crouching down beside it he grabbed the red head's hand. She rolled her head up to look at him, eyes wide with fear. Draco wondered briefly as to what she could have seen that was so terrible.

"Who is it?" Potter asked gently, stroking her hand.

"I didn't think it was possible," she whispered. "I never dreamed-" she paused to take a shuddering breath.

"Who is it?" Potter asked again.

"Me."

o-o-o

"I don't believe it. I refuse to believe it. My daughter will not have to suffer through that hell once more. Look at the result of it all, she barley lives her life. She just sits in that office of hers all day!"

The voice faintly echoed through her mind. It was soft as though it had traveled a far distance to greet her ears. The voice was full of worry and distress that pulled at her heart. She briefly wondered who they were talking about. Yet she felt it would be improper to eavesdrop, even if she had no idea who they were.

"Believe what you will, Arthur," another voice replied reasonably. "But the fact of the matter is that Voldemort has returned. And with his return your daughter must once again aid our side. No matter the cost."

There was a pause and in it she pondered what had been said. The one man's name was Arthur, just like her own father. And they were talking about Voldemort. But they couldn't be talking about _that_. No, they couldn't.

"There's something not right about the whole thing," another voice said suddenly. This one was female.

"What do you mean?" The man named Arthur asked. The worry in his voice was increasing.

"She's receiving the similar wounds of the victims she sees," the female voice replied.

She wondered what that could mean. She had never even pondered the possibility before. It would have driven her mad.

"How is that possible?" the man asked.

"I don't know. But when she saw her own death I was so scared for her that I had her sedated."

Now she was getting worried. It seemed the girl they were talking about lived a life that paralleled her own. And to be sedated would explain why all around her was darkness. Why she couldn't move…

"She saw her own death!" Arthur demanded. His voice was shrill yet it still held an authority to it that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Yes sir." Another voice responded. It was a younger voice from the others. "First mine then her own."

There was a soft thump. She thought it sounded like someone falling into a chair. If she could have, she would have herself. It was uncanny. There was no way it was a coincidence. They were not just talking about anyone. They were talking about _her_. Ginny Weasley. She wanted to scream.

"I still don't see how it is possible for her to have seen it at all." The female voice spoke once more. It seemed so familiar to Ginny, but she couldn't quite place it. "None of our studies ever showed any indication…"

"It makes sense in a way," the second voice she had heard said after a moment. She could not discern who it could be. "What ever is causing these visions must still need her to see them. If she dies so do the hopes of all those poor souls."

There was another pause.

"This must mean that they know who she is," the voice that could only be her father's spoke sullenly.

"But I still don't understand how he can be back _to_ know!" It was the younger voice again. And if she had seen his fall, he could only be Harry. "And how could they all still be around, loyal to him? It's been seven years! What about the prophecy? I killed him!"

"Prophecies have been known to be wrong," the old and weary voice said softly. "Apparently this one is as well and now we have to deal with the consequences." There was a pause. "I am suspecting that they haven't known that it was her for very long, otherwise they most likely would have gotten her out of the way before he returned. How ever he may have brought it about."

There was another long pause.

"Well there is obviously nothing we can do about it at the moment," her father's voice once again broke the silence.

"You are right," the wise voice said slowly. "All that matters at the moment is that Ginny Weasley is kept safe. We will deal with the rest tomorrow."

"I suppose that is why I am here," a voice said good-naturedly. She knew she would have no hope in knowing who it belonged to. There was far too much authority in it for her to recognize properly.

"Yes," the aged voice agreed. "She will need protecting."

"And it won't be easy," Harry's voice rang once more. "She's stubborn. She won't want the help. Even if she is at the edge of her life she'll still refuse."

"Sounds like someone I know," the unfamiliar voice said pointedly.

"And she will need constant observation," the woman said in a commanding voice. "If these new conditions persist I fear they could become hazardous to her life."

"A Protector then?" the unknown voice asked simply. Someone must have nodded for there were no words voiced for a long stretch of time. She wondered what they were doing. "I am afraid there are few in number at the moment. Most are over seas for various reasons that I can not reveal." Another pause. "And the one's in country I would not trust with such an important task." Another pause. It was almost as though the man was checking something or in deep thought.

"There must be someone," her father said finally.

"There is, but I know you will not like it, Minister," the voice said slowly. Yet another pause. "The only man who can take care of your daughter properly would be Malfoy here."

There was a choking noise. Then stunned silence. Ginny felt her ears ring. She felt like she was falling within her head.

"There is no way in hell," Harry's voice suddenly boomed, startling Ginny as she began to plummet faster. She felt her decent stop. "That I will let Malfoy watch over her!"

"I hate to say it," another new voice sneered. It could only have been Malfoy. She felt a slight sense of surprise that he was present at all. "But I agree with Potter on this. I will not watch over a Weasley. It's bad enough that I have to work with her. And what about my research detail anyway?"

"You are still on it," the unfamiliar voice said darkly. "And you will be watching Miss Weasley as though your life depended on it, Malfoy, or else I will make sure you will never work in the Wizarding World as anything more than a janitor."

There was another stretch of silence.

"Well I suppose refusing isn't an option then," she heard Malfoy mutter.

"It bloody well isn't."

"Fine," her father's voice said sharply. "What ever it takes to keep her safe."

"But I'll warn you right now," Harry's voice suddenly hissed through her mind. "If you hurt her, Malfoy, I swear, I don't care what side of the war you are on, I'll kill you."

o-o-o

Ginny Weasley awoke with a start. She stared up at the ceiling blankly, at a complete loss as to where she was. The only sound in the room was her heavy breathing and the rain once again pounding on the window.

Slowly her surroundings began to make sense. She was lying in her bed, deep under the soft covers. 'It was all a dream,' she thought with a sigh of relief. 'All a terrible dream.'

Voldemort was not back. Harry had not required saving. She did not see herself die. Did not feel it. She did not need Malfoy's protection. All she had to worry about was getting to work on time and continue her research.

With a disgruntled sigh she sat up. Yet stopped herself from getting out of bed for something did not sound right. Her pajamas were too noisy. Looking down at herself she took a double take. She was still dressed in her clothes from the day before.

Reaching up, she gently touched her eye. It was bleeding once again.

"No," she moaned. "No, this- this is all wrong. This can't be real. I'm still dreaming." She pinched her forearm until she drew blood.

Ginny did not wake up.

"No," she moaned again.

Ginny wondered, not for the first time in her existence, why her life was so terrible. A sick and twisted cycle that never seemed to end. Continuous circles, linking and growing as her life wore on. She had a dreaded feeling that this cycle might be her last. That this one might be too much for her battered soul and end it all.

'One can only wish,' she thought idly, wringing the summer blankets in her hands.

Ginny did not want it to happen again. She did not want to be rapped of what little she had left. To have to dedicate her life to the Order of the Phoenix once more. Be their bloody messenger while they took all the credit for her suffering. While she died again and again…

She groaned again, dreading what was to come with all her might. There was a knock at the door, pulling her from her fears of the future. It sounded almost refrained. Dejected. A moment later it was opened. Ginny's spirits dropped further as a tall blonde entered the room. He stared at her with narrow eyes. Resentful eyes.

Ginny narrowed her own eyes, letting some of the anguish and hate in her system poke through. "Fuck off, Malfoy," she snarled, sitting up straighter on the bed.

"Unfortunately for the both of us, I don't think that is possible," he sneered. "Now shut up and listen. I want to go to bed." He glared at her. Idly Ginny wondered just how long she had been asleep for. 'I hope it was a long time,' she thought bitterly, glaring at the man before her who had always belittled her and tormented her family and friends. She forced herself to ignore his good looks.

"Until you are relieved of my charge you are to go no where without me if you wish to continue living your obviously pathetic life." He looked arrogantly around her room, as covered in clothes and books as it was. "You are not to use any forms of communication with out my say. You are also to tell no one of what I really am. For all anyone cares we're old friends or some shit like that. Got that?"

Ginny nodded, resisting the urge to scream. She wasn't being protected, she was being controlled. And she had this feeling inside her that Malfoy was going to push his dictorial authority as far and as hard as he could just to spite her. She frowned.

"As far as the outside world is concerned there is nothing out of the ordinary happening in your life." 'I wish,' she callously thought. "And you will act as so. It is not only your life on the line if you fail, Weasley. As you have probably been reminded often enough, seeing your idiotic background. All the lives of the people Voldemort will attempt to kill are in your hands."

"You do not need to remind me of that," Ginny snapped violently. Kicking the covers away, she rolled onto her feet, walking over to him. She ignored the heat that seemed to radiate off of him, even in his callous state. "I know far better than anyone gives me credit for." She stopped feet from him. "And I do not require you to make assumptions about things you do not understand. You are my fucking bodyguard and that is the only purpose you will serve in my life. I do not need an extra conscience or an advisor on what I should or shouldn't do with my _gift_," she spat the word at him. "And I most certainly do not need the likes of _you_ telling me the things that everyone seems to take such pride and malicious enjoyment in telling me."

Malfoy glared down at her, her speech seeming to have had little effect on him. "Talk like that will get you killed," he hissed. "And it will not happen on my watch."

"Pity," she replied darkly.

His eyes narrowed further, looking at her calculatingly through dark lashes. Ginny glared back. "If I didn't know better, Weasley," he said after a minute. "I would think you did not want to be saved."

'Perhaps your better judgement should take a back seat,' Ginny resisted the urge to say. It would not do to make herself out to be suicidal. She had a duty to the world. She knew it. She would not fail them. So instead she silently glared back.

Malfoy said no more, only glared at her with his blue-grey eyes. His emotionless, cold eyes.

Ginny finally looked away.

She turned and walked over to the dresser where there was a box of Kleenex. Retrieving one she began to dab at the blood from her eye. A side effect that was completely new to her. She turned back to Malfoy was staring at her expressionlessly. She balled the tissue in her hand.

"I take it you are staying here then," she sighed, a wave of tiredness overcoming her. He looked about to say something nasty. She continued before he got the chance. "Then you can stay in the study."

She walked out of the room and into the hall. The left side lead to her sitting room and kitchen while the right lead to the study beside her own room and the bathroom. She went to the study, her most favored room, and opened the door. The room was dark as night, the window across from the door having no light to offer.

She felt for the light switch on the wall and finding it, illuminated the relatively large room with the Muggle lights. The familiar desk bellow the window covered in parchments and books greeted her and she smiled inwardly. There was no helping her; she was as disorganized as it was possible to be.

She stepped in, Malfoy close behind. The man looked around in disgust.

"Don't you ever clean this place?" he said in distaste, eyes fixed on the books piled about the floor.

"No," she replied simply.

With a wave of her wand, she sent all the books on the floor to rest haphazardly on the already full bookshelves. She momentarily debated getting a few more of them. Then turning to the couch in the right corner of the room, she waved her wand once more, causing the hidden bed within to come out, freshly pressed sheets and all. Ginny loved Wizarding IKEA. She turned to the man beside her.

"Bathroom's right across the hall," she said to him. "I leave for work at eight. Be ready or I leave without you." She moved to leave the room, closing the door behind her. Malfoy's voice stopped her.

"I forgot to mention," he said silkily. "You are not to lock any door in this place." He smirked at her horrified face. "In case something happens." He then closed the door for her.

'Fucking pervert,' she thought darkly, glaring at the closed door. 'Just wants to catch me with my knickers down.' She shuddered at the thought, and wanted to open the door once more and tell him off. Another wave of tiredness overcame her however, the weight of the day and all its horrible implications hitting home.

Quickly getting ready for the night, she crawled into her bed once more. It wasn't as soft as it had been before. She lay there, listening to the sounds of the night. She could hear Malfoy moving around in the hall. She felt her throat tighten.

'What a wonderful world this is,' she thought bitterly, rolling into a ball beneath the covers. It was the same position she had put herself into after her first premonition. The premonition that had cost her _his _life.

Memories rushed back into her consciousness. Memories that she never allowed herself to see. The ones she kept locked down tight. _Everywhere he looked there was smoke and fire... There was no escape... He screamed_.

Ginny let out a strangled sob. _Why didn't you believe me? Why did you let him die!_

Another sob, the tears began to spill over her eyelids. _We didn't know. We couldn't know…_

o-o-o

A/N: Well there you have it. More hints and beaten ideas that weren't fully revealed. What does it mean? It means you will have to wait for the next chapter to find out what is really going on. The D/G action should be coming _very_ soon. I just had to lay the foundation before the fun could start. So yes, hang tight and you will receive.

So, what is with Draco and his unexplained memories? Who is the "him" Ginny is crying over? What will Harry end up doing for Mrs. Weasley's B-Day present? And will Ron fall in love with a block of cheese? All that and more coming soon!

Many thanks to: **Cassie, Zuzu, Sayo, hasapi**(You know, I don't think anyone has ever been so considerate. Thanks)**, sabacat**(I've done worse. I will do worse)**, Rivenloe, kmf, Lee Velviet**(I won't consider it pressure if you hurry up on DR. Please? And I will try my best.)**, Lallie**(See, I told you I can't explain worth shit. If you tell I'll eat your liver! And you better be screaming that they use those hockey sticks!)**, VirtualFaerie**(Gah. You were close. Verrrry close)**, dinky** and **fyrechild**(When did I say I was not going to finish it?)


	3. Fine Again

Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: Well, this didn't take me very long, now did it? Ha. But yes, I know not many people are liking this but I am writing it for myself. I have put far too much thought into it to just let it fall away. And besides, there are some scenes in the next few chapters that I really want to write. Anyhoo, with the arrival of OotP I had to change things a bit. Luckily I only got out two chapters before the book or I would have changed a lot more. So now, for all you lazies out there, a break down of what I adjusted:

o- Harry was more surprised over Voldy's return

o- Arabella Figg was replaced by Hestia Jones(From the rescue mission) – I suspected Figgy was going to be part of Harry's protection, I just never considered her to be a Squib

o- Arthur Weasley's less abrasive

o- And that's really about it. I redid a few scenes that I really hated, but I can't very well explain them all. Bah

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and all characters that are not from Harry Potter.

**We All Fall Down **

**  
Chapter 3**

**Fine Again**

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "Fine Again" by Seether

o-o-o

_The sound of the crowd bellow was deafening. Draco could hear them pounding in his ears. Gryffindor had just scored. He could see his teammate's sneers from where he flew high above them._

_Moments later they scored their own ten points. The crowd not as loud this time. But Draco could tell that something was wrong. Yet it was not lack of enthusiasm that was suddenly bothering him. He was much more disturbed by the fact that his hearing was blinking. As though his head were being pulled above and bellow a wave of water._

_He looked around, as though searching for the person who was hexing him. The world spiraled. There were two Potters staring at him from across the pitch. Four Weasleys flying around in his head._

_His head lolled forward then rolled from side to side. He felt his broom fall away from him, leaving the ground to rush up towards him. The wind all the while howling and screaming in his ears._

_Draco Malfoy was unconscious before he hit the ground._

o-o-o

Draco awoke with a start, spreading his arms out as though to stop himself from falling. He sat up slowly, pulling his knees to his chest, dropping his head on them as he struggled to forget what he had seen.

It had been the incident that had started everything. That terrible series of incidents that happened one after the other relentlessly until he thought things could get no worse. They always did.

He had often found himself wondering what life would be like if it never happened. Where exactly he would be. Who would be alive because of it. Who would be dead...

Draco silently shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of such idealistic thoughts. 'If it didn't happen then,' he growled in his mind. 'Then it simply would have happened later on. It was inevitable that father would have eventually found out.'

The sound of a door opening dragged the young man out of his thoughts. 'Weasley,' he mused. He once again looked about the room he had been placed in with disgust. To him it was a disgrace, an anomaly that would never have been seen in his family's manor. He heard her footsteps pad down the hall. The clack of slippers on hardwood.

That was the problem with this residence. Every sound could be heard through out. He doubted that Weasley knew that otherwise he knew she would not have cried. He had heard her. He had no idea how long it had gone on for, but it had disturbed him. A simple, quiet sound had disturbed him, Draco Malfoy. And yet it had been so heart wrenching, so desperate that he now suspected that had been the stimulus that brought the memory turned nightmare back to the surface of his mind.

The shower turned on.

He sighed and dragged himself out of bed, looking around for his belongings. He had gone home the night before and left them at the foot of his bed. This was all old news as far as he was concerned. Old cumbersome news. The same situation, simply a different location and pretty face. 'Not pretty,' he thought darkly, pulling open his trunk with repressed violence.

'This is the last time,' he suddenly concluded, surprising himself in a way. He had never really considered retiring from his career seriously. He had always had it in the back of his mind that it should happen, but as to when had always been up in the air. Yet it seemed to have all come out into the light, in a quick and startling way. He didn't want to be doing this for the rest of his life. He didn't want to live his life for another person's, just as he had for his father.

It suddenly occurred to him then at just what had caused him to come to this sudden decision. It had been the dream, he was sure of it. It just made everything he thought that he had down pact seem so stupid. Sure, his work as a Protector was stimulating; it kept him on his toes, but at what price? Now that he really thought about it, he wasn't doing this work to protect people, but rather he was doing it to protect himself. To make himself seem superior to someone else who was terrified and in need. Now that he thought about it, he was disgusted.

He had been using people. Using them to make himself better than what he was. He had been playing with their lives for the sake of his own. And he had never realized it until now. And it disgusted him.

He violently tore his clothing and toothbrush from his trunk, slamming the lid closed as though wishing he could close it on something else. Perhaps himself, but he wasn't sure.

The question now, however, was what was he going to do? He couldn't simply pack up and leave the Weasley woman to fend for herself, no matter how much he hated her and her family. There was more than the Weasley's happiness on the line now. No, and somehow he had been landed with the job of basically protecting the protector of the Wizarding world. It was rather surreal now that he thought about it. And he didn't even want to be there. In fact, he could quit and it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. Conditions would make him stop soon anyway. Stop everything.

'It would be funny,' he thought with slight amusement, tossing his belongings to the ground and moving to make the bed. 'If I wasn't a part of it.' He tugged the sheets with frustration, a sudden, bitter thought crossing his mind, 'If only father could see me now.' He tugged some more. 'Living in a Weasley's home and protecting her life. He would probably laugh until he had tears in his eyes.' He paused, smoothing out the comforter. 'Then he would kill me.'

The shower turned off causing a sudden change of atmosphere, making Draco's ears ring at the silence and to bring him out of his revere. He shook his head. He had been thinking too much lately. Not that he didn't have reason not to, but if he kept this going the way it was, he would slip up. He would slip up and regardless of whether he was going to quit or not, he would still be responsible for the deaths of more than just Weasley.

Standing up straight and looking down on the newly made bed yet another thought occurred to him. Why had he been the one that Shaw had chosen to guard the woman? He knew for a fact that there were several other Protectors available. More qualified ones as far as Draco was concerned, but then, he would say anyone would be more qualified as long as he wouldn't have to deal with red headed creatures. Yet Shaw had lectured Draco but hours before of how he should take it easy and not strain himself, and then here he is, forcing Draco to take the assignment. And it was going to be a difficult assignment to say the least. 'Especially if Voldemort is truly back and wishes this woman's death with all his might,' he thought darkly, turning and opening the door to his temporary room.

The door opposite his own opened at about the same time, steam issuing forth from it. Weasley walked out clad in a fuzzy white house coat, clutching a bundle of clothes to her chest. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"Morning," she said simply, walking past him and leaving the steaming bathroom to him. He frowned after her but made no attempt to say anything. He didn't have anything worth saying.

About twenty minutes later, Draco was dressed and ready to face the day; his wand snuggled safely in his pocket. He strode into the kitchen, expecting to see the red headed owner already there, perhaps eating or simply reading the paper. Yet she was not there eating and the paper lay unread on the island. He moved towards it and glanced over the front page. There was nothing of interest, no cries of Voldemort's return, no demands that a search for Death Eaters begin. He frowned slightly.

"You know if you keep your face like that it might get stuck," a voice said bitterly from the entrance of the kitchen. He turned to see Weasley standing in the doorway, clad all in black. "And I really don't want to have to stare at that for the rest of this wondrous event."

"Well at least we would be even then," he drawled back, eyeing her slowly and deliberately. "You can't seriously expect me to find enjoyment in staring at you."

"You're pathetic," she spat, frowning at him as though he were an insect too pitiful to be squashed and strode into the room. She glanced at the paper as she passed by, but ignored it to pull open a cupboard. There was a selection of colorful boxes contained within. She stared at them, seeing to debate over something.

"So what do you have to eat in this place?" he asked her, trying to keep his voice civil. There was still a sneer in it, but the woman didn't seem to take heed.

"You probably won't like any of it," the red headed woman said with a slight sigh, still staring at the various boxes. "It's all Muggle."

"Why would you want to eat only Muggle food, Weasley?" he drawled at her, seating himself on one of the tall stools about the island. "Are you too poor to afford the good stuff?"

"Certainly not," she said sharply, turning around to face him, a scowl on her face. "It's just different from what I grew up on." She frowned. "Besides, it's rather good."

He stared at her, not sure he was liking what he was seeing. 'Is this what I'm going to have to live with?' he wondered in slight despair. 'An arrogant and spoiled Weasley who only eats Muggle food? Voldemort better role over and die right now or I think I might have to do something rash.'

It took him a moment to realize that the woman was staring at him funny.

"So what is this so called food you have to offer?" he asked, not wanting her to stare any longer.

"Well," she said, looking at him thoughtfully. "There's some cereal in the cupboard here or some yogurt in the fridge." Each time she gestured with lucid movements of her hand and after a moment the scent of her perfume caught at his nostrils. The movements of her hands seemed to convey a sense of leadership ability within her that he doubted that she knew existed. But then she was the lead researcher. "Or there's toast. Though you'll have to fight with the toaster if you want some, 'cause I'm not cooking you food."

"You wound me, Weasley," he sneered at her, making sure she saw his rolling eyes. "What are you having?"

"Cereal," she replied, finally reaching up and pulling down a bright red box. As she moved to the left and pulled a bowl from another cupboard, he saw that there was an image of a ridiculous looking bird in the front of the box.

"_Fruit Loops_?" he asked in incredulously.

"So?" she asked rather stubbornly, striding towards him and taking the seat beside him. "Do want any or are you going to go for something else? I don't really care what you do as long as you do it quickly. I have to be at work in twenty minutes."

"Nothing like leaving things to the last minute," he muttered, as he got up and moved towards the tall white thing she had said contained the yogurt. That sounded safe enough to his ears.

A tapping noise, however, stopped him. Without saying anything to her, he turned and walked out of the kitchen and into the main sitting room. Looking towards the window the familiar sound of beak hitting glass was confirmed by a large barn owl sitting on the ledge, asking to be let in.

He walked over to the window and opened it, allowing the bird in. It was a traditional Owl Post owl, the little strap of signification on the bird's small ankle. It dropped a manila envelop in his hands and flew off before Draco could even think of paying it. He looked down on the letter.

_Draco and Ginny_

The words were written neatly in the center of the envelope in a swirly, girlish sort of font. Ignoring the implications, he opened the envelope and looked at the single parchment inside.

_Draco and Ginny,_

_I have to keep this short, for obvious reasons. There is going to be a meeting at the usual location today at nine o'clock this morning. We need to discus what's going on and how it is going to be dealt with. And Gin, I hope that you are doing well, but I'll talk to you about that when I see you._

_Hermione_

"I don't think you'll need to worry about being late, Weasley," Draco called, walking back towards the kitchen, still staring down on the short letter. "It seems you're going to be at a meeting instead."

"What do you mean," she asked, looking up from what appeared to be a bowl of colorful rings submerged in milk. He frowned in disgust.

She got up, ignoring her food, and reached out for the letter he had just read. She read over it rather quickly then glanced at the envelope. "How quaint," she said darkly. "She put your name first."

"Well Ginny and Draco does sound awkward," he said with a smirk, only rewarding him in a glare and a smack from the letter itself.

Draco walked past her and opened the door of the fridge, and glanced about it. The space was rather empty and he didn't find it very difficult to discover what he was looking for. He then went and got a spoon from where Weasley herself had gotten one from. He leaned back against the counter then, eating his oddly bitter breakfast.

"So where is this usual place?" he asked Ginny, who had reseated herself at the island and had gone back to eating her food with a frown on her face. She looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, a look on her face that told Draco she thought the question was off the wall. "You were part of the Order, were you not? It's at Grimmauld Place as it had been for the duration of the Second War."

Draco could feel himself staring at her. They had had a designated meeting place? But he had always just met with single members in random places. Had Potter been right? Had they really not trusted him? Not even with the location of their strong hold? Weasley seemed to figure this out.

"You were never there, were you?" she asked quietly, looking at him as though trying to figure something out. "I don't remember ever seeing you there now that I think about it. When did you join?"

"Half way through my sixth year," he replied, staring down into his yogurt cup. How could he have not have figured this out after all these years? How could he have let himself be used by them? If this was all true, then they had simply used him for information when he had tried to help. They never had trusted him after all...

Ginny let out a hiss that caused Draco to look up. There was a look of disgust on the woman's face. Her eyes met his and he was surprised to see resentment in them.

"I can't believe them," she sneered, glaring at him slightly. "How dare they use people like that?"

"Like what?" Draco found himself asking. He had been expecting a gloating sort of response from the red head far from the seemingly vengeful one he had received. What else had this Order done to other people?

"Never mind," she responded after a moment, her eyes seeming to cloud over with something Draco couldn't quite figure out. She stood up after a moment and dropped her bowl into the sink beside him. "Let's just go and get this over with then."

Draco frowned further as she turned and walked out of the kitchen and back into her room. Yet he never got a chance to think as she returned a moment later, a small box clasped in her hand. Draco looked at it. He knew what it was before she told him it was a Portkey. He was beginning to get the feeling that there was a small collection about this woman's belongings.

She opened it and held it out. "Let's go." He reached out when she did and let his finger drop onto the object, setting his jaw as the usual pulling at his naval greeted his sense. Closing his eyes, he allowed the magical forces to pull him about, trying to ignore the implications of where he might end up. Seconds later he flet his feet hit the ground.

Opening his eyes, he looked about to see that he was standing in the middle of an empty lot, residing in a rundown neighborhood. There seemed nothing special about it, which meant there really was something about it. He turned questioning eyes to Ginny and she simply shrugged, pulling her red hair from her face. Then she turned away from him once more and led the way towards a house that slowly appeared out of nowhere as they approached. It was just as run down as the neighborhood.

Ginny strode up the steps to the door and rapped on it three times, not even bothering to check if he was with her. Draco felt irritation at this. What was the point of a Protector if she walked into things without his ok? He strode up to stop beside her and was just about to educate her about these facts when the door opened.

"Ginny!" a pink haired woman squeaked, pulling the woman into a hug over the threshold of the house. Then she released her, allowing Draco see that the woman was pregnant or extremely fat. He gave her the benefit of the doubt. "Come in, come in. Everyone's almost here." Both Draco and Ginny moved into the dingy house. Draco looked about the dust in disgust. 'Perhaps it was a good thing that I was never invited here,' he thought darkly, taking in the decaying surroundings. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"I wouldn't call a month ages, Tonks," the red head laughed, tossing her hair and sending its sent wafting towards Draco. He tried not to scrunch his face in disgust, feeling that by the time this was over he was going to loath the scent of raspberries. Ginny grinned and pointed to the older woman's stomach. "How much longer?"

"About a month," the woman cooed, as a man walked up behind her. Draco instantly recognized him as his old professor. The werewolf. "But I can tell you right now, I can't wait till this thing decides to come out. It's wreaking havoc on my abilities."

"I've never seen her change so into many shapes in one day," the werewolf said to Ginny, shaking her hand then pulling her into a hug. "So I recommend you don't take it personal, or you'll go insane. I've already stopped noticing."

The woman named Tonks stuck her tongue out at her apparent husband, and he just smiled back. She then turned her attention to Draco.

"You must be the Protector," she said politely, offering her hand. Draco took it. "I'm Nymphadora Lupin, but call me Tonks." Yet she gave him no explanation as to why as she had turned to the werewolf. "And this is my husband Remus Lupin."

"We've already met," Lupin said curtly, nodding to Draco. "I must say I'm rather impressed, Malfoy. You've really managed to do the exact opposite of what your father would have wanted."

Not knowing how to respond to this, Draco simply said: "Thanks."

"Well," Tonks suddenly said. "We should get in there, so we can get this thing over with." She turned towards the doors. "I've already missed out on two hours of sleep and I don't want this all to infringe on my nap time."

She began to lead the way to the door, but didn't make it far as she was soon crashing towards the ground. In one deft movement, the werewolf had caught his wife in his arms, seemingly unfazed by the sudden development. Standing her upright, they continued towards the doors as though nothing had happened.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the woman beside him.

"Tonks is a little klutzy at times," she said softly, trying to hide a grin.

Draco remained silent, knowing that if he said something that he would offend her. He didn't quite feel like it, finding her smile to be quite peculiar. He had never seen her smile before. Or at least not in recent history. He had a feeling that if it stayed there longer she might give him a slightly easier time. Yet he doubted it.

The foursome moved down a hall and down a set of stairs before they stopped in front of a set of double doors. The sound of many voices greeted their ears, and Draco set his jaw. Tonks strode forward and opened the door, revealing the room within. Draco felt his eyes grow wide at the amount of people within the room. Had there really been this many members? He truly had been kept in the dark.

o-o-o

Ginny walked about in a daze, being greeted and receiving condolences from nearly everyone in the room. She saw old faces, old friends, old rivalries, yet she didn't quite feel that she was really there. That she was really in this place once more, discussing things that should never be discussed. That shouldn't need discussing.

Ron and Hermione had made quite a large production in making sure that she was alright. Ginny simply told them she was to get them to back off. She hated when they fussed over her like that. It was almost as if they didn't really care what she was feeling as long as she said she was fine. Yet, that was just how her family was, and she knew she could not pick her relatives.

Harry had been better then his two friends, but then he had been around her before. He did, however, demand knowledge about Malfoy, who Ginny had misplaced some time earlier when people had risen to greet her. She told Harry that everything was well; just to be rid of him. What use was it to whine to him that Malfoy was an ass? That he treated her like she was a stupid child who needed to be ruled over to be kept safe. That would just make him mad, make him want to hurt something, seek his frustrations out on someone else...

She wandered about, for what seemed like hours, and the longer she went on through the room the more sadness weighed on her heart that so many people were missing. Yet they had been for quite some time now. You can not fight a war without expecting casualties. You could fight one and try to keep them to a minimum, to maximize the survivors, but it was impossible to hold battle without being assured that someone was going to die. Of this Ginny knew all too well...

"Let's sit down," someone said into her ear, causing her to jump. "Careful Weasley," the someone drawled.

Ginny turned angry eyes on the blonde behind her causing him to frown back. "I don't need to be _careful_ Malfoy," she spat at him, pulling the hair from her face.

"Funny," he said with a mock thoughtful expression. "The way you go about things I would say you do."

"You-"

"Ah, Miss Weasley," a cheerful voice interrupted her words, causing them both to turn to see the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore. Ginny felt surprise spike through her as she looked at him. He looked so old. But then, she had no idea the age of her former headmaster. He could be nearing one hundred or for all she knew, have already passed it. "I am glad to see you up and about."

"Yes well," she said slowly, trying to keep her voice even. It would not do to break down before the leader. Even if he was the one who got her to the point of breaking. "You can't keep me down."

"This I know," he said with a wink and Ginny had to struggle to keep a neutral face. Though the man was truly a savior of the world, she didn't think she could forgive him just yet. Not for what he had done. Not for those who had to pay the price at the beginning of it all.

"And how are you, Mr. Malfoy?" the old man asked, turning his aged eyes to the younger man. "I hope Miss. Weasley isn't giving you too much trouble?"

"There's nothing about her that I can't handle, sir," the blonde drawled in response and Ginny felt a pang of anger. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear the smug look from his face. But she couldn't do that here.

"Good to hear," the old man said with a sweeping gesture. "How about we all sit down and get this meeting over with?" With that he walked to the head of the large, kitchen table.

"After you," Malfoy sneered at her, raising his eyebrows as if to prove his point.

With a sneer of her own, Ginny swept forward and sat in the first seat she came across. Malfoy sat down next to her moments later and she pointedly ignored him, looking instead to the people who sat down next to her. Harry grinned at her, and tilting her head she could see Hermione and Ron doing the same. She gave a weak smile of her own then turned to look at the people sitting along the table.

'They all looked so old now,' she realized, frowning despite the fact that there had been seven years for them to age. Grey hairs, hallowed eyes, wrinkled skin. It was all very peculiar to her. 'How funny it is how the world works,' she mused once more. She didn't think she would ever get over that. She could hear voices talking, but she chose to ignore them. She knew what they would be saying anyway.

"Weasley," Malfoy suddenly hissed at her, his elbow connecting with her ribs. She turned and glared at him. "They're talking to you." He had an expression on his face that she couldn't quite read. But it could have possibly been disgust or irritation or concern. She highly doubted the latter.

Turning away from the blonde and his face, she looked at the other expectant faces around the table. "Sorry," she said slowly, not backing down and not feeling very sorry. She knew it was immature, but she did not really care at the moment.

"I was just saying, Miss. Weasley," Dumbledore's voice greeted her ears. "That your two premonitions marked the return. Kinglsey was wondering if you have seen anymore."

Ginny turned her brown eyes to rest on the black man. He smiled gently at her and she found herself smiling slightly back as well. Her family owed a lot to that man.

Taking in a deep breath, realizing that all eyes were turned on her and their owners were waiting with baited breath, Ginny shook her head slowly no. "No," she said softly. "Not a thing since Harry and myself." She paused, her face crinkling slightly. "It's almost as if they were testing the waters."

"How so?" a man to Kingsley's right asked. Ginny turned to him to realize it was Mungdungus. 'Since when does he care about affairs?' she wondered in slight astonishment. 'Or stay awake for that matter?'

"Well," she found herself saying, not even quite sure why she had said anything at all. This had all just occurred to her while she was having her shower this morning. "It almost seems to me that they were simply trying to see if I could actually predict these deaths. And perhaps if they had already confirmed this, they were just trying to see how I dealt with them. What steps I take to stop them from happening."

There was a pause.

"I have been wondering this myself," Dumbledore said. "It's almost as if they were trying to see if she was still alive, or simply if she still had this power to stop their plans."

"I'm still surprised over the fact that none of them killed anyone over the past years," Zacharis Smith sneered, looking as pompous as ever. "It must have been very hard for them not to, even if they didn't want to attract her attention."

"Most likely their own lives were on the line if they screwed up," Cho Chang retorted bitterly from across the table. "I suspect Voldemort had a fate worse than death if they ruined his plans."

"But the main question is now," Minerva McGonagall began from her seat beside Dumbledore. "Is what we are going to do about stopping him this time?"

The room burst into loud voices as people began to debate about the various issues raised. Ginny stared at them all wide-eyed. Since when did the Order argue like this? Or had she just become so accustomed to her research team that she wasn't use to the bickering anymore? Either way, she couldn't help but stare. A glance at the man beside her, told her that Malfoy was in a similar state of mind.

There was a cough that surprisingly brought all present to silence. All eyes were turned to Dumbledore who was looking expectantly at the people crowded around the table. His face seemed to have lost its cheerfulness.

"There is only one way left to defeat Voldemort for good," he said gravely, looking about at the curious faces. "Since the prophecy has apparently been proven wrong, as I secretly feared that it would be." He nodded gravely to Harry who nodded back, his face dark. "There is only one option left."

"And what would that be?" Malfoy asked from beside her, causing Ginny to turn and look at him with surprise.

"His heir must kill him."

The crowed of people once again burst into speech, more desperate and confused than before. Mutual shouts of "Heir? How could he have an heir!" or "Since when?" and a final out burst from her brother Ron saying: "Who would want to have sex with that thing!" A few people laughed at this one.

"If you will quiet down, I will explain," Dumbledore called over the voices. Ginny turned to look at him and was slightly startled to see a rather impatient look on his face. It was an emotion she had never witnessed him express before. It was rather unsuiting. But just as soon as it had arrived, the look disappeared. She frowned slightly. Perhaps there was more to the man than she had first given him credit for. Perhaps he was more human than she thought he was. More troubled.

The room calmed down and all looked at the now passive old man, not seeming to notice the look he had had prior.

"How can You Know Who have an heir?" her brother Fred demanded.

"It's just wrong," George agreed.

"I am not quite certain of all the details," Dumbledore began, his hands clasped before him. "But what I have pieced together should be more then sufficient for now." He paused. "Voldemort was not always as hideous as he is at present. In fact he was quite an attractive young man."

Ginny felt a tremor at the mere memory of the man that was seared into her mind. She would never forget him. He never would have allowed that. Yet the tremor she felt wasn't one of fear, but of anger. Anger at more than him, or herself.

"Yet he did not produce his heir when he still held this appearance," Dumbledore continued. "From what I have discerned he didn't consider the necessity of having an heir until just before his initial rise to power. I am assuming that he must have been going through rough times, for why would a being that would live forever need someone to replace themselves? But need a child he did, and he had one.

"Who the mother was, no one is quite sure for Voldemort kept all of this secret from everyone, even his most trusted associates," Dumbledore went on, looking weary and tired. "She was from somewhere in North America, but even this is abstract as there is no record of her ever coming to England, or even having a name." People frowned at this. "She simply checked herself into St. Mungos, alone, and died in this same hospital a few hours later." There were a few gasps.

"And what do you mean by that?" Neville Longbottom asked, his face no longer as round as it had once been. He was gripping the hand of his blonde wife, Luna Lovegood, as though what he was hearing was distressing him. Or he thought it was distressing her.

"She died of a rare poison, that only Voldemort would be cruel enough to use, Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore sighed. "This is where things become less difficult to figure out. Voldemort disguised himself to look as he once looked when he was with the woman, yet she discovered who he truly was. As soon as her child was born, she stole away with it, trying to hide it from the monster that was the father, and hid it in a safe place where she knew he would never find it." He paused once more, frowning at his hands for a moment before continuing. "Voldemort caught up with her shortly after, trying to find out about his child. He didn't know what had happened to it other than the mother had had something to do with its disappearance. He didn't know if it was alive or dead, or even what sex it was."

"But you do, right Albus?" Tonks asked, her fingers flickering from being covered in feathers to scales then back to skin.

"Yes, she was a lovely child who went by the name of Vera Black. No relation to the house of Black, I am afraid," he added at the look of interest on several faces. They all fell. "I had the privilege of teaching her while she attended Hogwarts. A very bright child despite her upbringings." He paused as if reminiscing.

"Her mother gave her up to a Wizarding Orphanage, telling them only that they had to keep her safe from the evil that was rising and what her name was. A fake last name, as though she didn't want her child to have any connections to her past. The child grew up there, never knowing her parents, but hearing all about her father as he began his reign of terror as we knew it. She eventually came to Hogwarts and stayed there until she completed school. It's after this that things get a touch more complicated." He stopped for a moment. "She left the Wizarding world and no one knows why or where she went."

"So in order to kill Voldemort we will have to find this Vera girl first?" Harry asked, a determined look on his face. Ginny frowned. How could he not look determined? This was something that he would consider his responsibility now. He hadn't gotten rid of the evil the first time, he was going to make sure it left for good this time. It was so Harry.

"I am afraid so," Dumbledore said sadly. "But she is no longer a girl, Harry. She will be a thirty six year old woman if my memory serves me right."

"And you have no idea whatsoever as to where she went?" Hermione piped up, her brow furrowed. Ginny knew she would be helping with her books.

"None at all."

o-o-o

The meeting carried on in this manner for quite some time before Draco found himself following in Ginny's wake out of the building. He couldn't say that he was going to miss it, feeling rather that he was happy to leave. It didn't exactly scream at him as a place to frequent.

"Well that was just fun," he heard the red head mumble as she pulled out her wand, standing in the place she had stood before where they had Portkeyed. She then turned to face him, her eyes dark. "Don't Apparate to my flat; you have to go to the alley beside it. I am assuming you have already looked it over?"

Draco nodded. Without another word the woman before him Apparated with a pop. With a sigh of annoyance, Draco Apparated after her, thinking not for the first time, that there was really going to be no point in him being there if she did not follow what he said. 'I guess Potter was right,' he thought darkly, appearing in the alleyway she had referred to.

He looked around to see her leaning against the wall, eyes to the ground. He felt a pang that something was wrong for an instant, but it faded as quickly as it had come when she looked up and glared at him through her long hair.

"Took you long enough," she sneered, pushing herself off the wall and striding past him. Draco let out a growl.

"You know, there is no point in me being around you if you don't do what I say," he hissed at her, coming up beside her. "What if there had been a Death Eater down there and you had been killed?"

"Then you wouldn't be talking to me right now and neither of us would have to pretend that we care," she replied, glaring down at the ground.

Draco turned and grabbed her about the shoulders, pushing her back and slamming her none too gently into the wall. She looked up at him with surprise.

"I don't know what is wrong with you Weasley," he hissed at her, squeezing the portions of her that he had a hold of. "But this attitude of yours has got to stop, otherwise there's no point in me protecting you. And the way you are going on about it, I am seriously beginning to think that you want to die."

The surprised look on her face faded to be replaced by something else. Draco found himself staring at it, not quite sure what it was. It was almost as if she was hallow inside and a tiny bit of it was showing through. It made him want to shutter, but he suppressed the urge, instead leaning closer to the woman herself.

"How many people do think Voldemort killed in our seventh year, before he was defeated?" she asked him calmly, the hallow feeling seeming to radiate from her, making Draco's hands feel as though the heat was being sucked from him like ice.

"I don't know the exact figure," he responded with a frown, not knowing exactly what she was talking about. And her eyes were starting to stir something inside him, like a bad dream that he had long ago forgotten but the impression of it was still there on the tip of his memory. Yet he couldn't bring himself to look away. "But I know it was over a few thousand."

"Simply a number?" she asked in a painfully calm voice, her eyes seeming to stare straight to his soul.

"What are you getting at Weasley?" he said darkly, beginning to get the feeling that she was trying to pull something, but on the other hand a part of him doubted that.

"Everyone just thinks of the dead as a number," she said slowly, the calmness seeming to lift slightly to be replaced by something else that Draco could not decipher. "They always neglect to think of how every single number was a person, an individual, just like you or me. An individual with hopes and dreams, aspirations and fears." She paused for a moment, her lips twitching slightly.

"Then they simply end and no one gives a damn as to who they were, only that they _died_. That they were _killed_ by a murderer." She swallowed. "All that they were conveniently drops away."

"I understand that," he said slowly, frowning slightly. It made sense really. People didn't want to think of atrocities in terms of reality. Why think that the dead where really people when a number won't make you feel quite so bad. Quite so guilty for being alive when the deceased no longer were.

"Do you really?" she asked with a frown, her eyes seeming to loose their hollowness all together to be replaced with pain. With resentment. But only for an instant as she closed her eyes and when she opened them again all was blank as though they had never held emotion to begin with. "I don't think you do. Not completely anyway."

"And you do?" Draco retorted, feeling in some odd way that he wanted to see the hurt in her eyes once more. To see that there was something to her other than the impassiveness and bitterness that he usually saw. This desire startled him.

"How could I not?" she replied, turning her head away from him, closing her eyes once more. Then she looked back, meeting his eyes, and fire burnt there. "I still feel every one of those damned souls within me. Every single one I failed to save. They never leave."

o-o-o

A/N: Well, I wasn't expecting to put that last bit in so soon, but it works. :D Anyhoo, don't know when the next part will come out, but things will be getting better soon. One more chapter and the shit starts to fly. In large chunks.

Many thanks to: **Monique**(If I could, my entire room would be full of stuff from there :D)**, Andernale, Lallie**(What weren't you going to tell again?)**, VirtualFaerie**(Evil!Beating!Potatoes...? Ok...)**, CherryMintChocolates**(Apparently he wasn't bitter enough compared to OotP)**, Elani**(I am saying nothing)**, tulzdavampslayer**(Yah, I love cheese. Especially wedged cheese...)**, maria**(Oooh, stupid Flames, think there so great with their little flame symbol... Just jokes!)**, bigbitch**(Sorry for the wait)**, hpfan90, wow, Chieri Asuka**(Nope, this is not a sequel and apparently I did. :D) and **Mara-Jade-KSS**(Mara Jade's so cool:D)


	4. Paint it Black

Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: Well, this chapter came out faster than the last one. Be happy. I really shouldn't have even had it done yet, what with all my essays and poop to do. But oh well. I suppose I will just have to work extra hard now. Anyways, this chapter is a bit long but I need it to developed a few things before the excitement starts. Otherwise I know you will all be screaming at me for the sudden change in characters. Anyhoo, have fun...

Disclaimer: I own nothing, plain and simple.

**We All Fall Down**

**  
Chapter 4**

**Paint it Black**

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "Paint it Black" by The Rolling Stones

o-o-o

Ginny stared into the mirror, not quite believing who she saw in it. The woman she saw before her didn't seem to be her anymore. She hadn't pulled her hair into a ponytail for the last week, not wanting to truly see what was underneath her red hair. It had only been a matter of time until she did though and the result was more startling than she had expected.

There were dark tracks under her eyes, making her eyes themselves seem darker than they should be. But then it simply could have been the absence of happiness in them that made them seem so off tone. Those same dark eyes traveled to her cheeks and she was surprised to see that the bones were more defined than usual. She didn't think that her food intake had been that affected, but then it seemed that everything had been tossed into chaos for the past week.

Ginny had not been able to sleep properly ever since it began. It seemed that whenever she closed her eyes she would see the images of people's deaths playing themselves over and over and over until she felt she could scream. She never did however, for it would send him after her.

She still wasn't quite sure as to why she had told him what she had. She had never told anyone that. Yet it had just found its way out of her lips and to his ears. It had been a mistake, especially since Malfoy now seemed to think that she really was unsound and seemed to make points of checking on her. Not in a kind way either, he always managed to make it seem as though she was about to kill herself any moment and save the Dark Lord the trouble.

She really could hear all of the souls. She could if she sat there, in the silence, and had nothing to distract herself from them. They would cry out in her mind, over and over again as if they were reliving their deaths in a constant, torturous cycle. And she knew it was not just the memories of the incidents imprinted on her mind. What they said changed every time. What he said was always different. As though he was still alive...

But she wouldn't sit there and listen. There were people to save, as she kept telling herself. There had been no one to save yet, however, as she had still not received another premonition. She wasn't looking forward to them, but their absence was beginning to unnerve her. It was like knowing something was going to jump up and hit you, you knew it was close but you couldn't tell exactly when it would happen and just when you let your guard down it catches you unprepared. So she had been trying to keep her guard up. Not that it would do her much good if she did or not.

All this waiting however was not helping her work either. Everyday after the meeting, both Ginny and Malfoy would go to the Department of Mysteries where they would attempt to work on her counter curses. Yet she couldn't seem to keep her mind on things and what ever she was working on kept getting blotched up, giving her Protector more reasons to sneer and spite at her. She was really starting to hate that man. More than she could give reason for. Yet she had to admit that his information for the Department was proving useful. Not exactly for herself, but for her coworker's tasks.

The Ministry itself had been put on standby, waiting for Voldemort's first move, if it hadn't happened already. At least, this was what Harry had told her. She had insisted that he keep her informed on whatever progress he made with the Black woman. So far they had nothing to go on other than the fact that she had moved out of the country after she had graduated. Ginny had faith in them though, and wasn't too worried about their success, she knew it was inevitable.

Shaking her head slightly, Ginny reached down and grabbed her toothbrush, which had been sitting on the cup with the toothpaste soaking into it for the last five minutes, and shoved it into her mouth. She began to brush furiously as though her teeth were the reason she was thinking this much and if she scrubbed them hard enough all her problems would drop away. It was then that the door opened.

Ginny's head snapped to the door to see an irritated blonde standing there.

"Hey!" she uttered through her toothpaste. "Get out!"

"No," he replied simply, striding into the room and coming to stand beside her. She glared at him as though he was out of his mind, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. He looked at her, "Lovely Weasley. But I want to sleep some time tonight. You have been in here for over a bloody hour." He looked around. "And it seems all you have been doing is starring at yourself. Productive."

Ginny glared at him, wanting to open her mouth and tell him off, but the toothbrush hindered this desire. So instead she continued her brushing, glaring moodily at him in the mirror as he begun to brush his own teeth. He glared back.

"You're such a git," she mumbled through her paste. He smirked at her slightly, and she frowned. Turning her head down into the sink she spat out the overused toothpaste and grabbed her glass, taking a sip and swishing it about. "You could have just knocked."

"I coubn't hab," he said, the toothbrush in his mouth moving with his words. "Bub I bibn't."

"You're a fucking ass," Ginny hissed at him, proceeding to wash her face furiously, a glare on her face the whole time. Toweling dry, she continued to glare at him then strode out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

'The nerve,' she thought bitterly, storming to her bedroom and proceeded to slam this door as well. She wasn't quite sure why she was letting him get to her like this. It wasn't as though she hadn't had to deal with immature boys before. She realized though, that this was different. While she had had to live with her brothers because they were her family, Malfoy was not. He had no right to treat her like she didn't matter. Like she was inferior in comparison to him.

Letting out a growl of frustration, Ginny threw herself onto her bed, her face falling into her pillow. 'Perhaps I could smother myself,' she mused as the need for air began to prickle at her lungs. 'Maybe that will make him grow up.'

Ginny stopped moving, processing just how childish that last statement had sounded. Since when had she taken to using her own life to make others feel as she wanted them to? If she killed herself she would only prove his suspicious that she was not quite right in her head. That she really was insane and had suicidal thoughts. The mere thought of proving a Malfoy right was beyond what Ginny could stomach, and she turned over onto her back.

With a sigh of frustration at her own childishness, Ginny wormed her way under her covers, snuggling as deep down as she could. Yet even as she closed her eyes, she saw the images of horrible things dance before her eyelids. Images that she never wanted to see and should never have seen. Never would have seen if she hadn't been outside.

With a small shriek of frustration, she rolled over and pulled the drawer of her bedside table opened, and pulled herself over to look into it. The bottle lay there, seeming just as it should and just in its place. 'I just want one night of sleep,' she thought tiredly, the last week seeming to suddenly weigh down on her. 'Just one night.' Reaching her hand out, she grasped the small bottle, and, pulling the cork out, drew it to her lips.

She hesitated, the scent of the potion drifting up to her nostrils. She didn't have to worry about waking up the next morning after all, so it wouldn't be wrong of her to take it. It was Saturday and she had convinced her Protector that it was a decent day to sleep in. And she wanted to sleep in. Yet something prevented her from tipping the bottle back. It wasn't as if she was addicted to this stuff. She barely used it. Only on occasions when she couldn't fall asleep for the life of her. For when the nightmares decided to ravage her mind.

Yet she wasn't experiencing nightmares now. Just memories. Memories that haunted her sleep and in turn were slowly ruining her ability to function properly. Somewhere deep within her though, Ginny knew that this was only the beginning. That if she began to become depend on artificial sleep it would not work when she needed it to. That she would suffer more in the future, more than she was now. Yet she wanted to sleep, no matter how irrational this seemed at the moment.

Slamming her eyes shut, Ginny tipped the small bottle back and welcomed the warm liquid that flowed into her mouth and down her throat, making her entire body warm up as it traveled quickly through her system. Putting the cork back in and replacing the bottle to its original position Ginny slip the drawer shut. Slipping back underneath the depths of the covers, she let her head fall back into the pillows.

She was just on her way to sleep as she heard the door to her room open. Yet knowing who it was she ignored him. He was just making sure she hadn't done anything rash anyway.

Ginny slept for ten hours, never once seeing anything in her dreams but blankness that stretched indefinitely. She could see slight shadows, but she ignored them, standing silently in the blankness all around her. She was nothing but at peace. Blissful peace that let her sway and rest and exist without thought. Exist this way until she heard something make a large noise.

Ginny woke up, sitting up fast with surprise. She looked around in confusion, and had to bite back a yelp of settlement when her eyes came to rest on someone just beside her bed. Her hands drew the covers to her shoulders in a flash.

"What the hell are you doing in here Malfoy?" she demanded, glaring at the already dressed man who was holding something in his hand. She felt her stomach drop as she realized what it was: her sleeping draught. Then she frowned internally at her stomach. She hadn't done anything wrong. Was he going to keep her from receiving decent sleep now?

"You took this, didn't you?" he demanded, thrusting the bottle at her. "I couldn't figure out why you were sleeping so long. You never sleep more than five or six hours." As Ginny stared at him, she realized that the man was angrier than she had ever seen him become while she was under his charge. She felt herself shrink back slightly, despite herself. "After a while, I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't give any sign that you were alive, save from your breathing."

He was breathing slightly heavier than he usually did, causing Ginny to frown. This only seemed to make him angrier however.

"I thought that they had poisoned you!" he suddenly burst out at her. "That they had decided not to kill you but simply inhibit your abilities. To make it so that you couldn't help anyone if you wanted to!" His breath was coming out in slight rasps now, which gave Ginny the impression that he was in the process of going up a large flight of stairs. "So I started to go look around for a way they could have gotten in, and I found _this_." He thrust the bottle at her again, further this time, causing Ginny to snap back in surprise.

"Sorry," she sneered after a moment, glaring up at him. "I wanted some sleep. Is that a crime?"

"Yes!" he said forcefully, glaring down on her. "How am I supposed to protect you when you go off and do something stupid like this?"

"How is wanting sleep stupid!" she demanded, rising up slightly. "If anything, your reacting like this is-" Ginny felt her words die in her throat, as she saw something she never thought she would have seen. "Malfoy, your nose," she said slowly, the anger that had been within her dropping away to be replaced with concern. Concern she couldn't quite place.

The man raised his hand and swiped at it. She could see the blood traveling down the length of his it to his wrist. She stared. How could a Malfoy have a bleeding nose? It must be against something in their history. He stiffened.

"It's nothing," he replied, looking down at his hand, and not at her. Then he raised it again and pinched his nose shut.

"It's not nothing," she insisted without thought, frowning at him. "You're bleeding."

"I said it's nothing," he said softly, his eyes casting about slightly.

"But-" she began, getting up on her knees and moving towards him.

"What part of nothing don't you understand, Weasley!" he suddenly burst out, causing Ginny to pause in her pursuit. "And don't touch me," he hissed at her.

"Malfoy," she said cautiously.

"Just don't!" he snapped, then turned and strode out of her room, blood traveling all down his arm now.

Ginny struggled out of bed and jumped to her feet, rushing out of the room only to see the bathroom door close. She frowned. 'That wasn't natural' she thought darkly, staring at the handle to the bathroom door. There was blood on it.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the red substance that she never would have suspected to leave the blonde's nose. It was bizarre to think that a Protector, that a Malfoy, would have something wrong with his health, especially because of the latter factor.

'He had looked so angry,' Ginny thought, eyes still fixed on the door knob. 'So startled.'

Somehow it put Ginny's mind on edge to see so much emotion from the man. She had never seen anything more but impassiveness and mild degrees of a few other emotions on his face for as long as she had known him. But to see such strong emotion now after all this time was just startling. Or so it seemed as her heart didn't seem to want to slow down to its usual speed.

Tearing her eyes away from the bathroom door, Ginny raised her hand and clutched at her beating heart. Taking in a deep breath, she walked forward and made her way to the kitchen, thinking that perhaps some breakfast would erase his eyes from her mind. She had seen more disturbing sights than an angry or startled Draco Malfoy. Many more. Yet he hadn't even looked that startled when she had seen him die...

"Stop thinking about it, Ginny," she said aloud to herself, her voice bringing her mind back to reality. Dropping her hand from her chest, she busied herself with making some food. Fruit Loops won once more, but as she sat staring at it, she still couldn't quite erase his face from her memory. Erase the blood that seemed so out of place. She had never seen the man show any signs of weakness. Ever. Well, except for that one time when he fell off his broom in her fifth year.

A door on the other side of the wall opened, and Ginny stood up, hoping to get a word with him. As to what she would have said she had no idea. Nor did she have any idea why she wanted to talk to him either. She was saved the worry of figuring out what to say, however, as she heard the door to the study he was staying in close. 'Perhaps it is better this way,' she thought with a small sigh, looking down on her breakfast. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to sit back down and finish it.

Shaking her head in frustration she gathered her things and headed to the bathroom. She looked about it, but she could see no signs of the bloody nose. 'Odd,' she mused, closing the door and resisting the urge to lock it. She silently swore at him once more for that little rule, but she did it every time she closed that door, regardless if he was weak or not.

Stripping down, she turned on the shower and got in, making the water as hot as she could bear. And then she stood there. For some reason the lethargic feeling that had prevented her from doing anything but thinking had overcome her once more and she couldn't even bring herself to wash her hair.

It was all so screwed up. She was stuck living with a Malfoy. Stuck living with a Malfoy because the Dark Lord, the creature who was supposed to have been killed off for good, was back in the world of the living. And he wanted her dead. But of course he did. She had no doubt in her mind that he had every reason to. If she had been in his shoes she would have been trying to kill her too. Trying to kill off the only warning system the opposition had. It would be folly not to. The fact that she was agreeing with the justification for her death warrant only proved to her how screwed up things really were.

Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to clear her mind of her thoughts, no longer wishing to be tormented by them. It was a horrible way to live lately. When she was awake she was tormented by her thoughts and doubts and then when she slept, the one time she should be able to escape the world, she was plagued by nightmares and memories of terrible days gone by. And they were about to return...

The shower did her some good, and by the time she was back in her room, dressed in comfy old robes and fuzzy blue slippers, she felt a little better. A little more alive than before. Pulling her charmed dry hair back into a ponytail, not caring if Malfoy saw her drawn face, she looked about and gave an utterance of disgust at the state of her room. There were three weeks worth of clothing scattered about the room.

Without clear thought, Ginny reached into her closet and, grabbing the laundry basket, began to pick up the selection of clothing. When she had it all in the basket resting against her hip, she made her way to the laundry room in the corner of her sitting room. It should have been a closet really, but the Muggles had managed to shove two appliances in there just the same, and it wasn't like she minded. If she left the door open and leant back a little she could see out the window and see the once again rainy day.

Ginny didn't quite know why she washed her clothes the Muggle way. She could easily charm them all clean and be done with them. Yet there was something about the mindless activity of it that appealed to her. The way she had a simple purpose, if only for a short time. For as soon as she was done washing, drying, hanging or ironing, as soon as she left that tiny room, she was back to who she really was. Back to the supposed defender of the damned.

Dropping the basket onto the top of the dryer, Ginny frowned at the colorful contents of the basket. 'It's all so cheerful,' Ginny thought impassively, staring at the articles as though they weren't entirely real. Without contemplating it too much, she took out her wand, and with two flicks, transfigured every article black. Then she stepped back and surveyed what she had done.

"Well, now I'll only have to do three loads and not six," she sighed, reaching up to the shelf above the machines to turn on the small radio. But she found that she couldn't quite make her hand turn the dial. She didn't quite feel like listening to anything at the moment. She didn't quite feel like distracting herself from her thoughts. Not at the moment anyway. She had done enough of that last night.

With a sigh Ginny turned the dials on the washing machine, causing the water to begin to pour into the barrel. She watched as it swirled around, feeling her mind go rather blank in the process. This room was truly a haven of sorts, for her mind at least.

With another sigh she poured the detergent into the water, waiting for it to dissolve. She then bent down to grab the fabric softener and came up short. She glared down at the large bottle. As to how she had gotten the bulk sized container to her flat in the first place was beyond her. She had a feeling that she had charmed it feather light, but she couldn't quite remember. She did not charm it this time though, instead deciding to struggle with it, to try and make herself stronger in a way.

"You're weak, Weasley," a voice drawled from behind her. Letting out a startled gasp, Ginny dropped the large bottle, leaping back so as not to have her feet crushed. The plastic seem split, letting the blue fluid flow along the floor. "Careful."

"Stuff it," Ginny snapped, not turning to look at the man she knew was sneering at her. She took out her wand and charmed the contents back into the container and sealed it as well. With a hiss of annoyance, she lifted it with a charm and filled the small cup that sat in the tower. She always had wondered how the detergent managed to make its way out of that cup, but she wrote it off as being one of the world's little mysteries. Not that there were many left anymore.

Refusing to turn around, Ginny began to fling the contents of her basket into the half filled washing machine. She got most of it in, stuffing it with her hands until everything was submerged. She then slammed the lid, grabbing a rag and turned to face the blonde, wiping her hands in the process.

She glared at him, expecting him to say something stupid, but it never came. So instead, she took to opportunity to look at him. He looked tired, worn out. She had no doubt as to why, but it didn't change the fact that he did. His posture was different, dejected and hunched almost. Almost but not noticeable if you didn't know what to look for. Yet even if you didn't know he had lost blood even an idiot could have told that something was wrong by how pale he was. It was as if he had lost most of his pigment, not that he had much to begin with, but now Ginny could almost see the veins under his skin. She repressed the urge to shudder, her eyes finally falling on his impassive ones.

"So," she said slowly, wringing the rag in her hands, taking in the blonde's sneer still in place on his thin lips. "Are you going to tell me what is wrong with you now?"

If she had hoped to get any sort of reaction out of him, not to mention half the amount of rage she had seen before, she was sorely let down. His expression barely changed, only his smirk dropped away. "That is none of your business, Weasley," he replied with a drawl, looking at her with those emotionless gray eyes.

"Like hell it isn't," Ginny found herself hissing back. "You're my Protector. If there is something wrong with you it affects me as well. I have a right to know if something is wrong."

"No, you don't," he replied in much the same tone as last time except that there was a hint of harshness to it this time round. She continued to stare at him as if hoping that if she stared long enough she could see through his head and see whatever she wanted to know. Unfortunately she didn't have that power with the living. Only with the dead. "It's my problem and it does not affect you in the slightest."

"Oh, of course it doesn't," she sneered at him. "Because if you keel over dead when I need you to save me, it definitely doesn't have any connection to my well being." She flung the rag in her hands down on the dryer just as the washing machine stopped filling with water and began its cycle.

"It's not like you would care, Weasley," he continued, the harshness becoming ever more present. "If I didn't know better I would say that they hired me to protect you from yourself and not the Dark Lord. That you are more suicidal than-"

There was a knock at the door and both occupants of the small room turned and looked out into the living room. Without a second's thought, Ginny walked out the door and headed towards the main door. Before she could make it, Malfoy caught at her arm.

"Don't open the door until I know who it is," he hissed at her, pulling out his wand.

With a nod, she viciously tore her arm away from his hand and continued her way to her original destination. She stopped before it and carefully looked out the peek hole to see the distorted world beyond. She was slightly surprised to see who was outside.

"Who is it?" the blonde hissed, standing half a foot behind her. She repressed a shiver at the feel of his breath on the back of her neck.

"My neighbor," Ginny replied slowly, squinting slightly as something in the corner of her view caught her eye. Something small. "And her daughter." She stopped, feeling her heart drop as the feeling of remembering something forgotten overcame her. "I'm supposed to baby-sit today. I forgot about that."

"How could you forget something like that?" he sneered at her, crossing his arms.

"Well, you switch lives with me and see how well things like this stay in your mind," she snarled at him, reaching for the doorknob. He scowled back at her and she pointedly turned to look at the chain on the door. "They're Muggle, Malfoy," she added, pulling the chain back. "So I suggest that you put that away." She waved at his wand.

"So we have to live like Muggles until the brat leaves?" he sneered, putting his wand away as instructed.

"Oh, Malfoy," she chided sarcastically. "It's not that hard really. I think the experience will do you some good." And with this said she pulled the door open to reveal a rather plump woman with her hand suspended in the air as though she had been about to knock once more. She heard Malfoy make his way back into the living room.

"Hi," Ginny said as cheerfully as she could, making eye contact with the woman and the little girl who had a large duffle bag in hand. "Are you sure you got everything?" she asked with a small smirk as her eyes fell on it. "Sure you didn't leave half your bedroom behind?"

"No," the little girl replied, smiling shyly up at her.

"Good to hear," Ginny said with a grin, returning her attention to the mother. "How are you, Martha?"

"I'm doing better than I was," she replied with a slight sniffle. "I've almost fought off this stupid flu." Ginny nodded, smiling as she took in the woman's fancy dress. "The weather isn't helping much though."

"It's been rather foul, hasn't it?" the red head replied, glancing back to the window to see the mud gray sky filled with dark clouds. "I suppose it could be worse though," she added, turning away from the chilling scene. "There haven't been any floods yet."

"Well, I suppose," Martha said, ruffling up her daughter's blonde hair. "Are you sure you're going to be alright with her? She's been a little moody lately."

"No I haven't," the little girl said indignantly, glaring up at her mother.

"See what I mean?" She smiled then it seemed to drop away. "Are you alright Gin?" she asked, concern filling her features. "You look as though you haven't slept in weeks."

Ginny almost winced, but managed to restrain herself. "I'm fine. There's just been a lot of stuff happening lately." She grinned a little. "Things have just been a little hectic, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

"What kind of stuff," her neighbor asked, her face turning mischievous an instant later. It was one of the reasons Ginny liked the woman. She was very entertaining, even when she didn't mean to be. Ginny stared at her then felt her eyes grow slightly wide when the woman waggled her eyebrows at her.

"What?" Ginny asked, glancing behind her. She stopped when she saw Malfoy draping himself down on the couch, looking for all intents and purposes as though he belonged there. Ginny found her mouth had gone dry. "No!" she gasped, turning her attention back to her friend. "I mean- He's gay." She heard Malfoy make a chocking noise from the couch. She ignored him.

Martha narrowed her eyes. "I'm getting worried about you, Gin," she said slowly, filling the roll of concerned friend very well. "First it was the shifty one and now this one's gay? I'd say more but there are little ears about." She glanced down at her daughter who was staring at the man inside the apartment.

"Well, you don't have to worry about the shifty one anymore," Ginny sighed, picking up a piece of her hair and fiddling around with it. "And he's just staying here because he has nowhere else to stay at the moment."

"Oh?" the woman asked, an interested look on her rosy face. "What happened to the shifty one then?"

"I'll tell you about that later," Ginny replied, smirking slightly. "Don't you have to get going? Wouldn't want to be late for your romantic night out, now would you?"

"No," Martha replied, an impish grin now on her lips. "No, I definitely wouldn't."

"I'll be fine, Emaleen will be fine, and I'll see you tomorrow." Ginny held the door open, waiting for the little girl to hug her mum, taking her bag for her.

"We'll try to be here before one," the rosy woman said with a smile. "I know you have that party of your mum's to go to."

"Thanks," Ginny said. "Have fun!"

"Oh, I will," she replied, ruffling her daughter's hair once more, causing her to scowl. "By dear."

"Bye mummy!" the little girl called, then took Ginny's hand and let her take her inside. Ginny paused to close the door, making sure it was locked properly.

She turned from the door, the little girl's hand still in her own, then led her further inside to the living room. She smiled down on her. "Emaleen," she began softly, grinning slightly now. "This is Malfoy. He's going to be staying here too, ok?"

The girl nodded silently and stared at the blonde who stood up and walked around the couch. Ginny watched as Malfoy stood there, seeming a little out of place in her quaint apartment, as she had noticed before, staring down at the little girl. Neither of them moved nor spoke, both looking impassively at each other. Ginny was beginning to get a bad feeling about the entire situation. Perhaps she should have asked if anyone else could have taken the girl. She was beginning to realize just how irresponsible of her it was to bring this child into her situation. What if they were attacked during the night and something happened to her? Ginny didn't think she could ever forgiver herself.

"Does it talk?" Malfoy finally asked, his impassive face replaced by a frown.

"Yes, _she_ talks," Ginny scowled, squeezing the girl's hand in a reassuring way. Then she grinned wickedly at him. "And you are sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Why?" he demanded. "Because I asked if it talks? Because it doesn't seem to be able to." He sneered at the little girl, who, to Ginny's surprise, smiled back.

"No," Ginny hissed. "Because it would be impolite to make our guest sleep on the couch. She might get a cramp in her back, and that would just be awful, wouldn't it dear?" The little girl looked up at her with big blue eyes and nodded, grinning.

"And you don't much care if I get a cramp in my back?" Malfoy sneered, looking distastefully down on the couch. Ginny silently cheered. Perhaps she could get some revenge with this little girl around. There was no way that the blonde could do anything to her since he couldn't use his magic around the Muggle girl or act like the overbearing git that he usually did. She might just be able to take advantage of the situation.

"No," she replied simply, causing Emaleen to giggle. Ginny grinned at him, but he turned his attention to the little girl instead of the red head.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" Malfoy hissed at her, causing her to giggle some more. "Well I hope that some-"

"Malfoy," Ginny said flatly, warningly, looking pointedly at him. He frowned at her, then at the little girl. With a slight huff he moved around the couch again and sat down. Ginny smirked at the back of his head, enjoying her new power, even if it would be short lived.

She felt a tug at her arm and looked down to see Emaleen smiling up at her. "I'm hungry," she said, swinging her arm back and forth, taking Ginny's with her.

"How about some lunch then?" the red head asked, tugging on the girl's arm, causing her to squeal and grab on with her other hand and hold on, laughing as Ginny waved her back and forth.

"Ok!" Emaleen, said happily, swinging her feet about. Ginny felt her heart lighten slightly, as though the little girl was all she ever needed to make her life seem less dark. Less foreboding. Perhaps this is what she was truly saving.

"I'll go get it ready then," she replied, lifting the girl even higher and depositing her on the couch next to Malfoy. She caught his glare and she winked at him. Emaleen jumped down on the couch beside him, swinging her legs.

Without a second glance, Ginny made her way into the kitchen, beginning her quest for Emaleen approved food. The girl was a little on the picky side, but Ginny didn't mind. She knew she had something that might appeal to her tastes. The paused after grabbing her can opener but couldn't hear any sounds coming from the other room. It was either a good sign, or a very bad one. Then the silence was broken.

"What does gay mean?" she heard Emaleen's voice ask inquisitively and Ginny almost burst out laughing. She heard Malfoy choke once more.

"It means that he doesn't like girls," Ginny called from where she stood. She couldn't help it anymore. She just had to laugh. It was the first time she had in a long time, and she felt the cloud over her heart lift a bit more. Perhaps her day was truly starting to look up.

o-o-o

Draco sat there, thinking that perhaps he shouldn't be hearing what he was hearing. That he wasn't worthy. 'You have no reason to think that,' a part of him scolded at himself, but he still felt the same way regardless. It was the woman's laughter. It was a sound that he hadn't heard in over a decade, and even then he wasn't sure if his memory was correct in connecting the laugh to her face. She was laughing now, however, and Draco could just imagine her clutching her sides in the process.

For some reason it made the anger that he still harbored from the morning ebb away slightly. It was irrational to think that a laugh could do this to him, but it was doing it nonetheless, and it made him slightly uneasy. If all it took for him to stop being angry was for him to hear laughing, then he almost wished that he lived in a comedy that made her laugh all the time. Almost. At least that way he would have a way to rid himself of his permanent anger towards certain people. Oddly enough they were all connected to one incident. Or rather, the beginning of it all started after that one incident, that one fall.

He knew he had overreacted when he found her sleeping, and he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for taking his rage out on her. Draco knew she hadn't been sleeping properly, but it didn't stop the sudden dread that something had been wrong from invading his sense. It hadn't stopped the feeling that he had failed once more in his life. When she had awoken he couldn't seem to control his reaction as the relief and sudden loathing at that very same feeling crashed together. He had just been so angry, and he instantly regretted it.

He did not regret his reaction to his nose bleed however. It was an event that he did not like to share with anyone, no matter who they were. It was nobody's business but his own and his mother's, but seeing as she couldn't even regret the incident anymore, he was all alone. He was alone and he did not need the pity of a Weasley to make it all better. Nothing would ever make it better, as Shaw had insisted was true.

He silently shook his head. 'Whatever happened to stress leave?' he wondered to himself, running his hand through his hair. 'This never would have happened if I was just working with the Weasley and not protecting her.' He was interrupted from furthering this train of thought as there was a tug on his right arm.

Turning his face from the window and downward, Draco looked at the little blonde girl beside him. She was perched beside him, now sitting with her back against the back of the couch, her legs barely reaching the edge of the couch. She seemed small for her age, whatever age that was, but then, it could simply have been the fact that he hadn't been around children in a long time. Looking at her made him seem so big, so disproportionate, compared to her. 'Was I ever that small?' he wondered, frowning at the girl in slight curiosity.

"What's your name really?" she asked him, not letting go of his sleeve. Draco moved to dislodge it, but found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. This alone sent his mind pin wheeling. Since when could he not do what needed to be done? Even if it was simply to get a child to let go of his sleeve. "I know it's not your real name."

He continued to frown at her for a moment than finally gave a slight sigh. "It's my last name actually," he told her, his voice unnaturally soft. 'And where did that come from?' he asked himself in disgust. 'Since when do I have a talk-to-children voice?' The girl looked at him in question, awaiting an answer. "My name is Draco."

"Well that's a funny name," she replied with a furrowed brow. Draco found himself raising an eyebrow in amusement at her expression. She seemed to be thinking very hard and it was almost cute. Though a Malfoy would never use such a term to describe anything, even if the event warranted it. "I think I've heard it before," she added, her brow furrowing further.

"It means Dragon," he offered with a small shrug. He wasn't quite sure why he was talking to the girl, let alone telling her about the origins of his name. Yet he found that as he looked into the child's face that the words and the demeanor just came naturally. If he had had more time to ponder this, he was sure he would be more than a touch perturbed by this.

"Ooh!" the girl suddenly let out a squeal. She got to her feet then and began to jump on the couch beside him. He found his head was bobbing up and down, following her progress. "_Draco_! Like the dragon from _Dragonheart_!" He stared at her, having no idea what she was on about, he assumed it to be some sort of Muggle gibberish. Gibberish he wasn't fully sure he wanted to understand.

The girl stopped her jumping just as quickly as she had started it, plopping down next to him, turning to peer up at his face. "But why would they name you after a dragon? You don't look very dragonish to me." She reached out with both hands then and took his own hand into them. It was huge in comparison to hers. She began to twist it and turned it as though searching for something. Surprisingly he allowed her to do it. "No scales. No claws. No wings." Then she dropped his hand and sat on his lap, grinning up at him. Draco stiffened. "Or are your wings under that funny coat of yours?"

Draco glanced down at himself and realized that he was still wearing his black robes. In an instant he mentally swore at himself for wearing something so unmuggle like. But then Weasley was still wearing hers, though hers probably could pass for a dress if she tried to explain it that way. But how could he explain a thin coat that went down to his ankles while he sat inside?

Clearing his throat, he pulled her hands off his robes which she had begun to pull on, sticking her head in as if searching for his wings. "No," he said carefully, pulling a bit more on her tiny hands. "I do not have wings hidden under here. So you can stop looking."

She pouted at him then, her hair slightly staticy now. Draco found himself smiling at her slightly, realizing that no one else could see it but the little girl. The girl started to grin back a little. "Pity," she replied, leaning away from him, but still holding onto his hands, using them to support her weight. "It would be cool if you could fly though. Then you could take me and show me the ocean from high up."

"I suppose I could," he found himself responding, the smile still there if you knew where to look. 'And I would if you weren't a Muggle,' he added to himself, taking himself completely by surprised at the benevolent thought. Perhaps he should make a point of continuing to stay away from children when this was all over, they seemed to make him soft. In a completely unmalfoy like fashion.

"So why won't Ginny call you Draco?" she asked him, changing the subject, still clutching at his hands. "Mum always says it's rude to call someone by their last names."

"Well, Wea-Ginny doesn't really like me all that much," Draco said slowly, looking pointedly at the coffee table. He knew he wasn't the best person to be talking to about addressing people by their last names. It was a habit that he wasn't about to give up anytime soon.

"But you like her, right?" Emaleen insisted, stopping her pull on his hands and simply hanging onto them. Draco turned his eyes back to hers to see her staring at him earnestly. It was almost as if the girl would give everything in the world just for him to say yes. "That's why you're here. You're her friend, right?"

"I suppose you could say that," he began slowly, watching as the girl's face fell slightly. It intrigued him to think of how simple her mind was and yet how much she had taken in of the world already. What would it matter to her if he was Weasley's friend or not, and Merlin forbid he ever became her friend. Yet it seemed to mean so much to her.

The little girl opened her mouth, seeming ready to add something about friends when the Weasley in question stuck her head into the room from the kitchen.

"Lunch is ready," she told them causing the girl to squeal one more. Draco winced slightly, rubbing at his now sore ear. The red head smirked at him, holding out her hand for the girl that was bounding towards her. Draco scowled back at her.

'So this was the way she wants to play it,' he thought darkly, rising slowly to his feet. She was going to use the Muggle girl as protection from him doing anything to her. Not that he did much to her anyway, but he could definitely sense the rebelliousness in the air. She was going to defy him when ever she could and he was beginning to get the feeling that if something went wrong, whether the girl was there or not, things would not turn out well. He had his doubts, however, that something would happen at all.

"Come on Draco!" Emaleen called from the other room and Draco found himself walking at a quicker pace towards the kitchen. Upon entering he saw the two of them sitting at the island with bowls of reddish looking food resting inside. There was also a third bowl, set for him supposedly, beside Emaleen, so that she would be in the middle of the two of them.

"Ladies," he said, tipping his head towards the little girl as he walked in and took the stool next to her. She giggled at him and he could feel the red head's eyes on her. He pointedly ignored her and looked down at the contents of the bowl. Little shapes, which he assumed to be animals, stared back at him, covered in what seemed to be some sort of tomato sauce. He frowned at it. "What is this?" he finally asked, taking the spoon beside the bowl and dipping it into the contents, swirling them around.

"How could you not know what it is?" the little blonde gasped, turning to look at him with large eyes. "This is the best stuff on earth, and you don't know what it is?" Draco mutely shook his head, looking at the little girl. A glance at the woman beside him showed her smirking at him. Oh, how he disliked her. "They're Zoodles!" Emaleen practically shrieked, once again making Draco rub his ear closest to her. "And I love them!"

"Yeah Malfoy," Ginny sneered at him, smirking even more. "How could you not know what Zoodles are?" He could tell that she found it all very amusing and she was doing a very poor job of hiding it.

Draco sneered over the little girl's head, who was contentedly eating her Zoodles. "I guess I lived a sheltered childhood," he said darkly, glaring into the woman's eyes. He saw them widen slightly then she creased them into a frown.

"Well, that's not my fault, now is it?" she replied softly, not looking away from him.

"No," he said simply, and then turned back to the bowl and its contents. The little girl smiled at him, and he grinned back at her slightly. Then picking up the spoon so it had a small amount on it, he brought it to his mouth. Emaleen smiled even more at his expression. It actually wasn't that bad, not that he would choose to eat it of his own freewill if the choice arose.

"See?" the other blonde asked, waggling her spoon at him. "Isn't it good?" Draco nodded. The three of them sat there then, eating from the respective bowls, seeming to respect the silence that surrounded them. It wasn't until Ginny had pushed her bowl away that the silence was broken.

"Aren't you going to finish Ginny?" Emaleen asked her, looking at the half full bowl in wonder. Her own bowl was all but licked clean, and Draco's wasn't far behind. He looked at her, getting the feeling that this was another one of her attempts at making his job harder.

"Yes, Wea-Ginny, aren't you going to finish?" he looked at her pointedly, making sure that she understood his implication. She narrowed her eyes at him then shrugged.

"I'm just not that hungry today," she said with a slight sigh, grinning at the little girl and ignoring Draco completely. "You can finish them if you want dear."

"No, that's ok," she replied, eyeing the bowl as though she was very tempted to.

"If you're sure," the red head replied, getting to her feet and sweeping the bowls away. She went over to the sink and placed them in it, then turned to face the two other occupants in the room. One was looking at her curiously while the other just looked amused. "I'll do the dishes later."

"Why don't you do them now?" Draco found himself asking, smirking all the while. Ginny glared at him.

"No, I think I will do them later," she responded, looking at him coldly. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the little head turning back and forth, watching the two older people. Draco tried to ignore it, opening his mouth to sneer back. Perhaps she wouldn't have the upper hand after all. "How about a game, Emaleen?" she asked, cutting him off before he could even begin. Draco frowned, but Emaleen bounced about excitedly.

"Ok!" she said happily. "Let's play Labyrinth! I want to be... blue!" Ginny nodded, smiling at the excited girl. Then the girl turned to Draco. "Are you going to play too, Draco?"

He stared at her. Well, he had never really been asked to play a board game before, or any other for that matter. If ever it was because of whomever's parents had made them to keep their associates content, namely his parents. He had never realized it until he had been older, and he hated himself for being so blindly led around. It was probably the denied child within him that answered for him: "Sure," he replied, not even realizing he had said it until it was out of his lips.

Emaleen smiled and scurried off to get the game from the study. He looked up to see Ginny looking at him, an odd expression on her face. He stared back, suddenly not quite sure what he should do. It was becoming a nasty habit today and he was really beginning to hate himself for it. Then the red head smiled slightly.

"I never knew you were good with children, Malfoy," she finally said, a look in her eyes that he could only guess was surprise, and perhaps, admiration – something he had never seen in anyone's eyes, even those who supposedly adored him. He felt his eyes widen the tiniest bit, his mouth opening shortly after. He felt he had to say something, anything, but he never quite got the chance.

"Let's play in here!" the little girl called from the living room, and Ginny pushed herself off of the counter, grinning at him as she passed by. Draco got to his feet and made his way into the room after the red head, not even sure that he was still sane. It was just starting to filter into his brain that he was going to play board games. He, Draco Malfoy, was going to play board games with a Weasley and a child. And for some reason this didn't bother him as much as it should have.

By the time it was all over the three of them had managed to play four rounds of the Labyrinth game (which was a touch more difficult than Draco had expected it to be), three founds of Sorry (Draco never did manage to keep his little pieces out long enough to get anywhere) and two rounds of a game called Life (He wound up in the poor house, much to his disgust and Ginny's delight). Over all it had been a massacre on his ego, and now he found himself sitting rather moodily in an arm chair, trying to read the Daily Prophet. Every time he looked at the woman sitting across from him he was greeted with a satisfied smirk, even if she was reading a book and not even knowing that he was looking at her. He narrowed his eyes and tried to turn his attention back to the paper.

She had laughed again while they had played the games. And to Draco's disgust he found that it had been infectious laughter, for after a while he found himself chortling along with her. She had stared at him funny for it, and he had tried to stop. Malfoy's do not laugh with Weasleys, or that was what he was trying to scold himself for now. But it wasn't working, no matter what he told himself, he still could not deny that he had had a good time laughing and playing board games while with a Weasley.

"It's a ghastly song for children to sing, isn't it?" the woman across from him suddenly asked, making him look up from his unread paper to look at her. She was still staring at her own book, fainting reading, but he could tell she was just staring at it as her eyes were fixed in one place. Draco smirked at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, listening for the song she was talking about. He suddenly caught the voice of Emaleen, who was in the Weasley's room entertaining herself, singing to a melody that must have been in her mind.

"Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies," her voice drifted to his ears. Tilting his head back, so everything seemed upside-down, he looked back into the woman's room. The little girl was spinning around, the light catching in her hair as it flew out around her, reminding him of a sunflower. "Husha! Husha! We all fall down!" With this the petite girl collapsed to the ground, laughing to herself and staring up at the ceiling with a large smile plastered on her face.

Draco tilted his head back upright and looked at the woman across from him and was slightly startled to see her watching him. Her face was rather blank; the dark circles under her eyes that always seemed to be made darker by the hair that was hanging around her face, which was now pulled back, looked startlingly pronounced and translucent in the light. Even with the sunlight coming through the window right next to her she still looked as though she was sitting in a dark corner. It forced Draco to repress a shudder, memories of his previous encounters when she looked like that rising to the surface of his mind. _They never leave_.

"It's about the Black Plague," she told him, the look fading away the instant she opened her mouth. Draco closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he had imagined it and she hadn't looked like that. Looked so haunted. "Can you imagine, having a song for children written after a tragedy, then to have the meaning lost? It seems like an insult to me."

Draco stared at her, getting the feeling that she was talking about more than a plague in her meaning. He couldn't understand what it could be though, couldn't quite put his finger on it though he felt that it was there, somewhere in his mind. He was about to pull the paper back up to his face and continue "reading" in an attempt to clear his head, if only for a moment. A scream from the other room crushed these plans however.

"Emaleen!" Ginny cried, bolting to her feet and rushing to the door before Draco could stop her, also on his feet. He realized in an instant of sheer worry, not unlike the experience from the morning, that if there was something in there, someone in there, he would not be able to stop them in time.

He ran to the door, wand in hand, but stopped short when he saw the small girl in the red head's arm, clinging to her, tears streaming down her face. Draco looked around with the eyes of one trained to notice the unordinary. There was nothing that could be seen as an immediate threat, so he put his wand away as quickly as he had withdrawn it, hoping the Muggle girl wouldn't notice. She didn't.

"What's wrong, dear?" Ginny soothed, rubbing the little girl's back. Draco watched in slight amazement as the girl seemed to calm down, clinging to the woman with a vice grip. After a moment she released one hand and pointed it shakily at the window. There was nothing there.

"It flew away when I screamed," the girl in Weasley's arms explained, a fresh roll of tears traveling down her face. Draco was about to ask what exactly had flown away, once again reaching for his wand. He had no need to though, as the creature once again returned to the window sill, tapping lightly on the glass.

He heard the Weasley take in a sharp breath, and saw her eyes widen. Wordlessly, without taking her eyes off the bird, she gently pulled the girl away from her body and held her out to him. Draco awkwardly reached out and took her into his arms, wand forgotten as she clung to his neck.

"Weasley," he warned, watching as the woman approached the window. "Don't do anything stupid."

"It's alright," she said softly, almost to herself. She reached the window, and then pushed it open, her actions languid as though she was a participant in a dream. The black owl flew into the room, causing the girl around his neck to increase her grip, and landed gracefully on the woman's outstretched forearm. "It's alright," she repeated, slowly, almost carefully, reaching out with her other arm and stroking the bird's head, looking at it in wonder. "Everything will be alright now."

"Why are you petting that bird?" Emaleen sniffled, and Draco found his grip on her increasing. He watched his charge as she closed the open window, turning slowly to face them, a smile spreading across her face, the likes of which he had never seen. It was almost whimsical. Then he turned his eyes to the bird, and something tugged at his memory. Then the something clicked and he felt his eyes widen. 'It can't be...'

"This, Emaleen, is an old friend of mine. His name is Ed," the red head said soothingly. "He's entirely harmless," she continued, petting the bird. "You can pet him if you like." She held her arm forward a bit, offering the bird. Draco watched as the little girl's eyes turned from fear to temptation, and after a few moments one of her arms released his neck and moved out towards the bird. Draco found himself holding his breath as her little fingers glided over the birds feathers then withdrew them, a smile on her face.

"What kind of bird is he?" she asked quietly, once again gripping Draco's neck. He looked on mutely, allowing the girl to ask the questions that he had always wanted answered.

"A black snowy owl," the Weasley replied, looking at the bird with affectionate wonder. "He was a gift from a dear friend of mine. He always loved to give me strange gifts. One year he gave me Ed here, named him for me and everything." Her expression turned distant then, and Draco caught himself wondering as to where in her mind she was going. He further wondered this as her expression seemed to sadden drastically. "I never thought I would see him again."

"What happened to your friend?" Emaleen asked, shifting slightly in Draco's arms. He watched on silently as the woman looked at the bird sadly. "Why doesn't he give you strange gifts anymore?"

"Because he died a long time ago," the red head responded, stroking the bird's head once more.

Silence rung through the air and Malfoy found that he couldn't take his eyes off the woman. She was stroking her apparent bird, a whimsical look on her face and it made Draco begin to wonder. To wonder just how much about her past he really didn't know. Everyone lost people during the war, but she had seen ever single one of those deaths. Had she seem this friend of hers as well? Was this was she was so removed from the world? From reality?

"But let's not dwell on that, shall we?" she asked after a moment, cutting off Draco's train of thought. He looked at her and she was attempting to smile. "What would you like to do now, Emaleen?"

"I want to watch a movie," the little girl in Draco's arms replied, turning her attention from the bird on the red headed woman's forearm to look back and forth from Draco to Ginny. Draco frowned. He had heard of these movies the Muggles enjoyed, but he had never seen one himself. It wasn't exactly one of his high priorities. He frowned at the red head who merely shrugged in response.

She turned to look at the clock resting on the bedside table. It read six o'clock. Draco stared. 'How could it have gotten so late?' he asked himself. He never misplaced time.

"Alright," the red head agreed, smiling at the small girl, still balancing her owl. "But you will have to have a bath first then. So go find yourself a big towel and I'll be with you in a second."

"Ok," the little girl chirped, then turned her attention to the blonde once more. "Could you put me down please Draco?" she asked him, giving his neck a little squeeze.

Draco stared at her. He didn't think he could remember ever having been squeezed like that before. But then, he hadn't held many children before, and the women he had had experience with would never dream of doing such an act. He knew he should have been ashamed of himself for feeling it, but it wasn't that unpleasant of an experience. It almost made him want to be around children more often. Almost.

"Draco," Ginny said slowly, and he realized that both females were staring at him. Impassively he placed the little girl down on the ground without a word and she scurried out of the room. The red head was still staring at him. Draco held her gaze, not letting anything show through. 'Not like there is anything to show,' he berated himself.

The woman sighed then, turning her eyes away from his. "I'll see you in about an hour then," she said, a small smile on her face now.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, looking at her carefully. He hadn't done this since she had been asleep, looking dead. She had been so pale then, so lifeless. She still looked tired now but there seemed to be some color in her cheeks now, however faint it really was. Perhaps this child had done her some good, not that it mattered to him, of course.

"Well I have to watch her," the woman explained, the smile still on her lips. It seemed to Draco that she was almost amused by his question, or perhaps it was just a trick of the light. "She's not old enough to take a bath on her own." Her small smile then broke out into a grin, and her eyes seemed to twinkle, startling Draco. He had not seen them twinkle since they were both back in Hogwarts and she had beaten him to the Snitch. That had been over a decade ago.

"Unless, you want to go in there. She usually throws bubbles all over the place." Her grin widened slightly. "Imagine the state of her designer robes." Draco remained silent, deciding not to comment on the awkwardness of him having to bathe a child. A child that he barely knew. "Here, just take Ed, will you. There is an owl roost in the main closet. Just put it in here by the window. But leave it open for him, will you?" She then looked down at the bird and gently stroked his head. "Be nice for Malfoy, old friend," she said softly, then transferred the bird onto Draco's waiting forearm. Without a second glance the woman walked out of the room. He heard the bathroom door close a few seconds later, the sound of Emaleen's laughter suddenly muffled.

Draco turned his attention back to the bird, suddenly realizing that his arm was not bleeding as it probably should have been by his lack of arm protection. The talons were sharper than an average owl, but this, obviously, was no ordinary owl. Not by a long shot. He also noted that the bird was much lighter than he had expected it to be.

'Built for speed,' he mused, stroking the animal's head that had once brought him a letter that had saved his life all those years ago.

True to her word, the two of them did not emerge from the bathroom for a good hour, steam issuing forth from the doorway. Draco had spent the time doing the paper work that had somehow built itself up over the week. A mundane task, but one that had to be done. He figured that he might as well do it while his charge was safe and without need of his attention. But now they were out, and the little girl was rummaging through the cupboard beside the master bedroom door. He watched her silently as his charge came up behind him.

"I'm going to order some pizza," she told him, and Draco turned his attention upward. Her face was red enough to make a rival of her hair. Apparently steam was a good stimulus for her color as well. "Or am I not allowed to order food?"

"From where?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Down the street," she replied with a shrug. "You can screen the delivery boy and the food itself. But they're trust worthy. And Muggle." Draco processed this information then slowly nodded. The woman moved into the kitchen and he heard the telephone being lifted from its receiver.

"Found it!" the little girl cried from where she was half inside the cupboard, the bottom of her nightgown pooling at her knees.

"Found what?" he asked her as she wiggled her way out, her wet hair falling about her face. She brushed it away, smiling then held up what was in her hands.

"The Lion King," she said proudly, holding up a rectangular shaped box with an illustration of what seemed to be a lion on it. "Ginny said we could watch it again. We watched it last time I was over too. It's one of my favorite movies." Draco simply nodded.

The girl turned away from him then opened the doors of the cupboard that she had just been crawling underneath. Inside lay the odd box he had first seen when he had inspected the Weasley's residence. He had assumed it to be Muggle, but he hadn't given it much thought. Apparently this was what the movie was on. Though as to how such a young girl could know which buttons to push, (and there seemed to be a lot of them to Draco) was beyond him.

The screen lit up, and cheerful sounds greeted Draco's ears. He stared the screen, disgusted at him amazement with the device. The girl then came towards him and sat herself down beside him, next to the armrest. He looked at her.

"Don't you want to sit beside Ginny?" he asked her, noting that there would be no room for the woman to sit in between the two of them. For some reason this thought bothered him.

"No," the girl replied cheerfully. "She's your friend. She should sit beside you." Draco narrowed his eyes at the girl, opening his mouth to tell her something he probably shouldn't but was interrupted as the Weasley returned.

"So, what are we watching tonight?" she asked, walking into her laundry room. Draco heard the closet door open and close. When the woman returned she had three blankets in her arms. He didn't even have time to question her motives when one was deposited into the little girl's lap and then one was placed in a similar fashion on his own. "The pizza will be coming in about twenty minutes," she added, seating herself on the couch beside him.

"Lion King," Emaleen said, already curling up in her blanket, staring at the screen attentively. Draco looked down on his blanket. Malfoys did not curl up in blankets. Even his mother never did, despite her condition. It was not like he was cold either, so he decided to just leave it where it lay. Neither of them seemed to comment.

Little snippets of movies, which Emaleen claimed were "previews" flashed across the screen, making Draco wonder just what kind of movie this was. He figured he would find out soon enough as the voice inside the box claimed that it was now time for the feature presentation. Dramatic music began to play, and Draco watched as the little girl's face lit up. He turned his attention to the screen and could assume why this was as dramatic music and lush colors greeted his sense.

About twenty minutes later, as promised, the pizza arrived. Weasley handed him a bill of Muggle money and followed him to the door. He was slightly surprised by her correspondence to his rules, but did not comment on the fact. He knew it would only vex her and in turn upset the little girl. Though as to why this was such a big deal to him. He was not quite sure.

The pizza man had been safe, as the woman had claimed he would be, and so was the pizza. Soon they were all seated on the couch again, eating the cheesy food. Draco had had some experience with this food, despite his anti-Muggle upbringing. There had been many times where the people he knew and worked with had dragged him off to various pizzerias, no matter how much he protested.

"My favorite part is coming up," the little girl whispered to him, leaning over as if to make sure only he heard. He glanced down at her.

"Why are you whispering?" he whispered back, ignoring how stupid he looked.

"Because Ginny's asleep," the girl replied. Draco turned to look at the woman, and sure enough, the red head's eyes were closed, her head lolling forward slightly. He wondered how he could have missed that change in state. "Watch," the girl insisted, tugging on his arms. He turned back towards the screen just in time to see the pig and his little friend begin to eat bugs.

Draco started slightly as something landed on his shoulder. Whipping his head to the left his eyes were greeted by the sight of red. Ginny's head had fallen onto his shoulder. He stared at her for a moment, wondering how a person who had slept all morning could possible fall asleep again so early. He moved to remove her, but Emaleen tutted, reminding him far too much of Granger for his liking.

"Don't move her," the little girl warned, frowning at him with childish anger. "She's sleeping."

Draco made to open his mouth and say something nasty about Weasleys but managed to restrain himself. Though as to how he wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it had been the girl's eyes, or the fact that there was something almost comforting about having someone's head on his shoulder. The latter couldn't be the reason though, he would never allow it to be the reason.

And so the Weasley's head stayed on his shoulder as she silently slept away through the movie. It wasn't until the movie was over that he even thought to move her. Emaleen turned the television off and replaced everything as it had been. He looked down at the red head. "Wake up Weasley," he said quietly, once again amazed at his different tone of voice. "You're sleeping on my new bed." He was about to shake the woman awake, but once again the girl shook her head at him.

"You're not a very nice friend," the girl scolded. "A nice friend would put her to bed."

"She can put herself to bed," he hissed, shifting his shoulders slightly, trying to work the stiff muscles there.

"Draco," the little girl whined and he turned to her. "Why won't you be a nice friend?"

'Because I am not her friend,' he thought darkly, but still obeyed the child. Without another word he scooped the woman into his arms, once again amazed by her unnatural lightness, just like the owl. Perhaps it was true what they said about an owner and their pet; there is a connection there that bonds them together. Emaleen smiled her approval as Draco made his way into Ginny's room. The little girl pulled back the covers and he gently placed the woman on the bed.

It was the oddest thing in the world for him, to lay a woman down as though she was something sacred. It was even odder that the supposedly sacred woman was a Weasley and not, say, his wife. He knew then that he was going to have more issues from this job than he had received from any other. And that was saying something.

"Goodnight Ginny," the little girl whispered, pulling the covers to the woman's chin then kissing her on the forehead. Draco stared down at the scene, feeling as though he wasn't really there. Wasn't really partaking in an almost family moment. He never got the chance to feel completely real before the little girl had taken his hand and lead him out of the room, leaving him to close the door, a final glance to make sure there was nothing in the room but what should be. The owl's glowing eyes were the only things that were new to the scene he had observed far too many times over the past week.

A few moments later he found himself tucking the girl into his own bed, once again feeling that he was out of place. That it was not really him partaking in these strange acts that he had no real experience with. Yet somehow he found that he knew what to do, which was a little more than disconcerting to him.

"This bed smells like you," the girl giggled, bringing the covers to her chin and giving off a huge yawn.

"Well I wonder why," he sneered at her, causing her to giggle some more. He made to leave but her little voice stopped her.

"Goodnight Draco," Emaleen called sleepily, and he turned and looked at her from the doorway. She looked lost in the bed that was nearly too small for him. It was as though the large blanket was swallowing her whole, and he felt something inside of him that he needed to save her. But he knew that he couldn't. That she didn't need to be saved. She was an innocent.

"Goodnight," he replied, then stepped back, closing the door halfway so that he could easily check on her.

He made his way into the bathroom, and busied himself with getting ready for bed. It wasn't until he was drying his face with a towel that he really looked into the mirror. The man staring back at him startled him slightly. He had always been told that he looked just like his father, but he had never really allowed himself to recognize it in his features. As he stared at himself now, however, he could tell why people would say it. He had the same pointed chin, pointed nose, blonde hair and pale skin. But there was a difference in him now and he leant closer to the mirror to try and come to terms that it was actually there.

His eyes, the gray eyes that he had always had, with a touch of his mother's blue, were now no longer so gray. No longer so Lucius. They seemed to have lit up, lighting up the rest of his face with them with their new bluer look. Draco was unnerved. His eyes had always been considered blue-gray but now the blue had come out more, was more apparent. He had never seen his eyes change color this much before. Ever. And yet he had heard of it happening to other people before. The intensity of one color increasing when there were extreme emotions involved. But that had always reportedly happened over time, not in the span of a day. It must have been his magical background, or something else. The same something that plagued his very existence, made Weasley want to pity him...

Shoving himself violently away from the counter he was leaning against, Draco grabbed his shirt and headed towards the door. He stopped dead in his tracks as he opened it and saw someone standing on the other side of it.

"Weasley," he hissed quietly, realizing that the door to Emaleen's room was still open. Open and allowing the woman to stand by the frame, still as a statue, staring at the sleeping child almost wistfully. It sent a shiver down Draco's spine. "What are you doing?"

"It's queer, isn't it?" she asked, not moving in any way to acknowledge him.

"What?" he asked, feeling suddenly irritable. He turned off the bathroom light, casting the both of them into shadow. He moved to stand beside her.

"Growing up," she replied simply as though it was the most obvious answer.

Draco found himself staring at her, taking in her surprisingly white nightgown. In all the nights he had spent here he had never seen her wear anything but two piece pajamas that were in all sorts of colors. The simpleness and the sleekness of her new sleeping garments seemed to clash with all that she was, yet at the same time seemed to accent it as well. Accent the pure defender that she was. Draco shook his head. (http/members. all begin so innocent. A simple child. A clean slate," she continued to speak, softly as though she was scared that if anyone but him heard her words the world would fall apart. "And then we all begin to grown, to change. To distort. All the potential we had begins to shave off, to narrow us down until we are who we are."

Draco began to frown at her. 'Has she been drinking?' he found himself wondering, despite the fact that he knew there was no liquor in the flat. But her words and attitude seemed eerily familiar and he didn't quite want to accept what they reminded him of. Perhaps irrational answers would keep the truth from coming out.

"But the world throws unfair kinks into the works, Malfoy," she continued, still looking at the sleeping child beyond the threshold. "Children are so easily influenced. Tom Riddle and Grindlewald. Neville and his parents. Ron and my older brothers." She paused then. "You and your father."

He felt disgust rise up in his stomach at her words. He could not deny that they were true. When he had been a child all he had wanted to do was be like his father. To prove to him that he could be just as good as he was. To make him proud. He closed his eyes for a moment as he once again realized how stupid he had been. How utterly blind he had been to his father's treacherous nature. Realized once again that he had almost become just like him as his childish heart had always desired.

"And who were you influenced by?" Draco asked, shoving his memories away from himself.

"I don't know" she replied, turning to look at him. Draco felt his heart stop. She had those eyes again. The open eyes that lead him in to see the darkness within her. The darkness that threatened to consume him. But he could not look away as he had not been able to the time before. "I've been trying to remember but for the life of me I can't."

o-o-o

A/N: Oooh, supposedly human Draco who was way OOC. Oh well. Sorry for the oober longness, but the next chapter will be more interesting and hopefully shorter. So should the one after that if everything goes according to plan. Anyhoo, thank you for living through it. Your thoughts would be muchly appreciated. :D Oh, and if the link to the picture didn't work, then go to my site, then Fan Art, then Tiny Q, then Scenes and it is the fifth image under "Random Fan Fiction".

Thanks to: **Azalai**(I love that part. Lallie and I put a tribute to it in our collab)**, sabacat, Amaya**(Well, I think he was a little unassed this time...)**, aurora borealis1**(Oh, I have no problem with Dumblypoo. He's great. I just don't want this to turn into another story where he saves the day since there seem to be quite a few out there...)**, Lallie**(Oh, it was muchly enjoyable. And I am going to make it even more so soon... But I think the thing you weren't supposed to tell was the ending and the middle and the plot since I told it to you while we were book shopping. I remembered something!)**, DreamGurl-de-Draco, Hplova4eva** and **storm079**(And I won't for a while yet. Hee. But I do plan on finishing this if everything works out in my favor...)


	5. One More Time

Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: If you are wondering about my other stories, as many people seem to be, I have put them on hold for the moment. I have been far too depressed to work on them. If I even try to think about them they get very angsty. So, I have decided to just give them a bit of a rest until I cheer up a bit. Hopefully that will be soon... Anyhoo, depression is great for this story. This chapter is packed full of angst and moody depression in all the right places. Hopefully. I hope you all enjoy it. I have had half of this chapter typed up for about a year, and I finally get to put it into something. Oh happy day. Also, this is the longest chapter I have ever written for any story. Lovely, eh?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Even the idea of Mrs. Weasley's present isn't entirely mine. I got it from this tacky little gift from a Sears catalogue. But if you are curious about it you will just have to read. It is basically the same thing, just less tacky...

**We All Fall Down**

**  
Chapter 5**

**One More Time**

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "One More Time" by Korn

o-o-o

Draco lay on his side, facing the back cushions of the couch. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he was seeing the soft fabric rather than the bookshelves that he had been waking up to for the past week, so he just stared at them, trying to remember. Nothing came to his mind. It was the soft shuffling of feet, however, that brought it all back. The little girl, his new bed, Weasley in white, her black owl...

Turning over carefully, he had to restrain himself from jerking back in surprise. Large, blue eyes, set in a childish face, were peering at him. He stared back for a moment before slowly moving to sit up.

"I was wondering when you would wake up," Emaleen said, sitting on the coffee table, her little legs swinging slightly. "Ginny wouldn't let me wake you. She said you needed your beauty sleep." She frowned slightly. "But I told her that boys don't need beauty sleep because they aren't beautiful."

"Let's have this conversation in about ten years or so," he found himself grumbling, pushing his hair out of his face. The little girl simply scrunched her face at him. "What time is it?" he added, looking blearily around. The sun was shinning near the top frame of the window, so it had to be later than he usually got up. The missing of time was becoming a nasty habit with this child around.

"About ten," she replied, smiling once more. "Why don't you sleep with a pajama shirt on?" she asked him, looking pointedly at the naked portion of his body. "Daddy always sleeps with his on." Draco simply stared at her but was saved from having to awkwardly answer her. Not that he would have answered her awkwardly, he was a Malfoy after all. Malfoys never act awkward.

"Emaleen, don't bother Dra-" Ginny's cheerful voice called to the little girl but she cut off. Draco looked up and met her chocolate brown eyes, keeping his own shielded.

'She's wearing white again,' he realized in his head, taking in the simple cotton summer dress. It was modestly cut and rather loose around her figure, but seemed to emphasize the dangerously skinny frame she had allowed her body to waste away into. Whether it was an intentional thing or not Draco couldn't be sure. Though he knew both options were quite plausible.

Her long red hair was wavy as usual, though it was clipped back as apposed to hanging in her face, hiding it from the world. This new hairdo allowed Draco to see the makeup to woman had piled on her face. Something he had never seen her wear, though the results were rather astonishing. The dark smudges were gone causing her eyes to look bright and alive, accented by a near invisible hint of yellow. Even her skin seemed to glow healthy as apposed to the pasty white she usually appeared to be. Draco felt something move in his stomach and he pointedly ignored it.

"Oh, you're up," she said flatly, breaking eye contact and allowing them to flick all over the couch and the little girl on the coffee table.

"Good morning to you too," he sneered in response. Looking away from her beautified person, he swung his legs out from under the blanket he had been under and dropped them to the hardwood floor. A cold chill ran up his feet, traveling into the rest of his body, which he ignored.

"Emaleen" the red head said, looking past him. The little girl looked attentively at the woman, little legs still swinging. "Are all your things packed up?" She nodded her head vigorously.

Draco looked at the little girl for a moment, taking in her large smile. Somewhere inside him he was envious of that smile, so bright and innocent. He snapped his eyes away from her, quelling the thought and stood up. Leaning back he stretched out the kinks in his back. Several popping and cracking sounds emerged from the area as he straightened out his vertebrae. He ignored them as the sensation of the release of tension filled his spine.

The two other occupants of the room stared at him, the smaller of the two with amusement while the other had a look of disgust. He simply smirked at the latter then made his way over to the bathroom, ignoring the stiffness in his ankles and forcing himself to walk normally. He was not about to show the Weasley exactly how stiff that couch had actually made him.

He emerged from the bathroom a short while later, looking what he thought to be his best. To him though, he always looked his best, so it wasn't much of a surprise. He had a duty to look professional at all times, or so he thought. And today was no exception, even if he was going to be spending time with the Weasley Clan.

Ginny and he had argued for quite a few days over this. She had insisted that her mother's birthday was a very important event and that she had to attend. Draco, the thought of anything excessively Weasley disgusting him, had refused to allow her to go, claiming it was unsafe. She had spouted off rants about the excessive amounts of wards about the place, the isolation of the place and so on and so on. Eventually she had won. Though as to how Draco had allowed the victory he had no idea. He had almost forgotten about the dreaded event altogether, but apparently it was still a go.

"Bye Draco!" Emaleen called, running towards him, around the corner, and attached herself to his legs. He faltered slightly, adjusting to the extra weight and restriction of movement, glad that it was only him and her in the hall. He wasn't prepared to see the look of malicious glee he would see pass over the Weasley's face. Or worse, the considering expression she had given him the day before. "Mummy's here now!"

Draco reached down and took her tiny hands in his, and pried them off of his legs and held them, kneeling down in front of her. He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but it seemed that the habit had not changed from the day before. The habit to seem to know instinctually what to do. It still gave him the creeps. She smiled at him, now at eye level.

"Will I be seeing you again?" she asked, swinging his hands back and forth as she seemed to have a tendency to do. He suspected it was the built up energy that only a child could have. She dropped her voice, "I like you better than all of Ginny's other friends."

Draco smirked slightly. "I can't make any promises," he said after a moment, not sure why he was even saying it. He knew that as soon as this job was done that he would be leaving. He would not be staying around the Weasley if he did not need to be around her. It was only a matter of how long he would have to be around her now. How long it would take until the Dark Lord took his death warrant off of her head. If his last reign was any indication, it could be a few years. "But you most likely will," he added with this new thought in mind.

"Good," Emaleen said with a nod, then attached herself around his neck, squeezing him. His arms drifted up and he found himself embracing the small girl back, making sure not to squeeze her little frame too tightly for fear of breaking her.

It was such a bizarre feeling. He protected people, witches and wizards alike, as a career, and yet he never felt such a preciousness about protecting any of them. Never this almost instinctual feeling that he had to tread carefully. Had to be careful or he could break something. 'Perhaps I really should stay away from children when this was all over with,' he mused, trying to suppress the feelings this new revelation brought about. They felt completely unique to anything he had ever felt before and he didn't like them. Didn't like the responsibility that they hinted towards.

"Emaleen!" her mother's voice called from around the corner. "Ginny has to leave soon! We have to go!"

"Bye!" the little girl chirped, planting a small kiss on his cheek before scurrying off around the corner once more. A few moments later he heard the door close. Yet he couldn't quite bring himself to move from his position near the ground. It was just too much, he supposed. Too much for him to take, to receive such benevolence from someone so innocent. He almost felt as if he had damaged her just by having her like him. To have her like something that was corrupt. Almost...

He stood up abruptly, forcing such thoughts from his mind. He strode into the study, which was once again his room, and kicked his trunk open, tossing a few things into it. Then he lazily waved his wand at it, shrinking it down to pocket size. He picked it up and placed in into one of his inner robe pockets. Now he was all set for a night's stay at the Weasley's residence. He had everything he had arrived with.

He walked back into the living room where he was greeted by the sight of Weasley. She was standing by the front door, a large tan side bag on her shoulder and white sandals on her feet. She was tapping the right one rather impatiently and he could sense a change in the air. It was as if the absence of the child had instantly raised their animosity to the level it was before, if not higher. He narrowed his eyes at her, ready for a fight.

"Grab something to eat, we have to go now or we're going to be late," she told him, looking at her watch. Without a word he turned into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the bowl resting on the island. When he returned she was holding out her hand and, after a moment, he placed the piece of fruit in it. She tucked it into her bag.

He silently put on his shoes the straightened up, glancing around the flat. "All your appliances are off?" he asked her, trying to detect anything wrong. "Wouldn't want to come home to a burnt out place."

She made an irritated noise and opened the door in response, holding it open and waiting for him to leave. When he did she slammed the door shut, locking it with a set of Muggle keys; they were tucked into her bag as well. They turned and walked towards the stairs just as a door three suits down to the left of hers opened and a woman came out, glancing around.

"Good morning Ginny," the woman said pleasantly, smiling from behind a set of pink plastic framed glasses.

"Good morning Cassandra," the red head replied, smiling cheerfully in return. "How are you?"

"Oh, not too bad," the woman named Cassandra sighed, pushing her surprisingly light blonde hair from her eyes. Draco had a feeling that it wasn't natural; it was the kind of unnatural hair color that Muggles created. He restrained a sneer, but wasn't completely successful. Her eyes drifted over to him. "And who's this?"

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny replied simply, glancing from him to the woman before her. "Old friend, I suppose you could say."

"Oh," she said, nodding at him. "Hi." She turned towards her door, pulling on it slightly and locking it. She dropped the keys into a simple, nondescript, purse that was drooping over her shoulder. She then turned her smiling face to the red head once more. "I haven't seen that black haired fellow around here in a while. What ever happened to him? He was always such a sweetie."

Draco frowned internally. The way the woman put it made it seem like Potter was the type to charm women off heir feet. He shuddered at the mere thought of it. Then something else occurred to him: how did every woman in the building seem to know about Harry Potter? His mind began to travel along a tangent he really didn't want to go down. So instead he turned his attention to his charge's words.

"We broke up a few weeks ago," Ginny replied, shrugging ever so slightly. Draco noticed that she seemed a touch more tense than the occasion called for. Turning his attention to his surroundings he could not pick up on anything that could cause her sudden edginess, except for perhaps the fake blonde. "When is your husband coming back from Iraq?"

There seemed to be nothing very interesting about the woman. If anything she was a little dorky, but generally one of those people you ignored when you walked by them. Definitely not one of the stop and stare types. Not with that atrocious hair anyway.

"His tour of duty will be over in a month or so," Cassandra replied, twisting her hands slightly. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Muggles and their pathetic excuse for politics. "I'll be glad when he's back though; it gets so boring around here without him."

"Understandably so," Ginny replied, glancing to Draco as she said it. She turned back to the woman, smiling once more. "I would love to chat some more but we have to get going. It's my mother's birthday and my brothers will freak if we're late."

Cassandra nodded understandably. Draco presumed she had heard stories about the Weasley Clan. "Well, tell her happy birthday for me, alright?" Ginny nodded in agreement then gave a little wave and continued on her way to the stairwell. Draco nodded to the fake blonde and followed after the Weasley.

"That woman gives me the creeps," Ginny confided in him after the door had closed and they had gone down a flight of stairs. He turned his head towards her, watching as she carefully held her hand above the banister as though to drop it onto security if she were to fall. It was a tendency of hers that he had picked up on his first trip with her down a set of stairs. It was almost as if she was protecting herself from a repeat occurrence. He had never asked though for he didn't really care.

"And that is why you are so polite to her," he sneered, turning away to look through the window of the third floor door. There was no one on the other side.

"What's the point of antagonizing people?" she said, then hissed, "But I suppose that's idea is completely lost on you, isn't it?" Yes, the animosity was definitely back. Draco wasn't completely upset by this though. Hate was something he could deal with. Something he could understand. Especially when it came to Weasleys. Or rather, this Weasley.

"You should take some of your own advice, Weasley," he drawled, looking into the second floor door's window. He heard her snort.

"Do you always have to act so paranoid?" she demanded. He looked at her and she gestured with her right hand at the door. "It's not like someone is going to pop out of one of them and kill us."

"It's my job to be paranoid," Draco said, frowning. He made a point to look at the window a second time, and then glanced upwards to the floors above. She made another irritated noise and he smirked. She was simply too easy to vex. "And it's more your death than my own that I am trying to prevent."

"And how much do they pay you extra if you rattle that one off?" she scoffed, glaring slightly. Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Didn't get much sleep last night, did we?" he said, smirking. "Sleeping Drought withdrawals? I know how difficult they can be." He didn't really. The drought never had much of an effect on him. A side effect that much annoyed him at times.

"Shut up," she snapped, shoving open the doors to the lobby and letting them crash into his waiting hands. He had come down this flight of stairs a few too many times not to expect the treatment. He had also opened his mouth a few too many times to comment on it once more. So he held his tongue and followed the red head's warpath across the Muggle tiled floor of the lobby and out onto the sidewalk outside.

She headed towards the alleyway without a glance and Draco strode to keep up with her, the irritation that he usually felt when she did this returning. The awareness that in the seconds she was out of sight something could go terribly wrong. He managed to catch up, however, just as she reached the mouth of the alley. Glancing around it, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual Muggle garbage that they were unknowledgeable in disposing of. His lip curled up in disgust, as it always seemed to do when he entered this place of his own freewill.

The Weasley strode to the middle if the alleyway, in between the brick wall and the entrance, then spun on her sandaled heel and glared at him. Draco glared back, crossing his arms, cocking an eyebrow in the process.

"Have you ever been to Ottery St. Catchpole?" Ginny asked him, pulling out her wand from her large side bag. He assumed that she must have had all of her belongings in there. Or at least, the ones she needed to stay overnight at the Weasley residence.

He nodded once in response, reaching into his robes for his own wand.

"Then Apparate to the alley beside the bookstore." With a swish of her wand and a "pop" she was gone from sight. Shaking his head, Draco followed suit, intent on getting to the destination before the woman could get herself into any trouble. In his mind she was irrational enough to let it happen to herself.

He reappeared instantly in another alley that looked suspiciously like the one he had just vacated. Shoving such ridiculous thoughts from his mind, he turned to his left to see the red headed woman already walking towards the exit. He strode quickly towards her, once again catching at her arm. 'This is getting pathetic,' he mentally growled, scowling down on the woman who was now looking at him with mild curiosity.

"How many times do I need to tell you, Weasley," he hissed, increasing the pressure of his grip. "That there is no point in me being here if you don't let me protect you." She stared up at him indifferently. "It's not like I like it any better than you do, but the situation being the way it is I have no choice. And neither do you." Then he sneered slightly. "Remember, it's not just your life that I am saving here."

"I don't need you to remind me of this everyday, Malfoy," she spat, pulling her bare arm out of his grasp. She glared up at him, the redness of her hair seeming to emphasize her anger. "Don't you think I know what the consequences of my actions will be?"

"Obviously you don't," Draco snarled, his voice getting lower, his accent more pronounced. "Otherwise you wouldn't be acting like a bloody fool every minute of the day."

"I am not having this conversation with you right now," she snapped, turning away from him and taking the last few steps to be out in the open. He almost reached out and grabbed her a second time that day, but restrained himself. There was nothing he could do, short of beating her over the head with something blunt, which would make her wake up and realize the world. Perhaps a beating wouldn't even do it. Perhaps there was something permanently disjointed in her head.

In the short time it took him to move to stand beside her he discovered she had already flagged down one of those yellow Muggle cars. He had always disliked the machines, their color a blazing symbol of all he despised of Muggle society. He shook his head slightly. As to why he was so vehement against Muggles this day was beyond him. Usually he could keep his hate under control. Perhaps it was Emaleen withdrawals. Perhaps it was Weasley and her sudden return to the ice queen she had been before.

She opened the door and he gestured for her to get in. As she slid down, the hem of her dress rose up a few inches. Draco pointedly ignored it, instead choosing to glare threateningly at the driver in front of them. The man cheerfully grinned back.

"Morning!" he chirped as Draco closed the door. "Where will I be taking you this fine morning?"

"The gas station on Range Road and Yellowbird Crossing," Ginny said in a deceivingly sweet voice. Draco turned his glare to her, suddenly suspicious of how fast she could change her attitudes. Yet as she cut her eyes towards him her face was back to the look of contempt it usually held. Usually held except for yesterday. 'Stop thinking about that,' he snarled at himself, leaning back into the squishy seat of the car.

The driver drove out of the city, making his way out onto a winding, country road. Draco could see the dust being kicked up into the air in the mirrors placed on the side of the car. The driver himself chatted merrily with the woman beside Draco, looking into the rearview mirror with an expression that Draco did not entirely like. He kept a scowl on his face the entire way, intending for the man to get the message. Apparently he was either extremely oblivious or extremely stupid. Draco was leaning more towards the latter of the two.

Draco watched as Ginny would lean forward, talking cheerfully to the driver. It was an almost disgusting display of false cheer. He knew that the woman didn't really have that cheerfulness inside of herself. Even when Emaleen had been around she still seemed subdued and gloomy. So why this sudden change? His questioning thoughts halted as he noticed something.

The mark he had seen on Ginny's chest when she had first collapsed onto him was glimmering at the edge of her dress. He stared at it, trying not to seem obvious. He hadn't given the mark much thought as of late, but now his curiosity was once again piqued. Just when he realized his staring was becoming obvious, the woman shifted, pulling up her dress, as if on instinct. Draco turned and looked out the window, trying to ignore the other two in the car and keep track of where they were being taken. He would simply have to find out about the mark at a later time.

"And here we are," the driver said, bringing the car to a rather jerky stop in front of a rundown gas station. Draco frowned at it in distaste. Ginny shot him a warning look.

"Thank you," she replied, handing him a few slips of Muggle money. "Have a good day."

"You too, Madame," the driver responded, and he still had that look that Draco just didn't like. Ushering the woman out of the vehicle, he sent one final glare at the driver. The driver once again ignored him, turning the car about and heading back the way they had come.

"Do you have to be like that?" Ginny hissed, pulling her side bag up along her shoulder and readjusting her dress once more. He frowned at her, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes," he said simply then looked around. They seemed to be in the middle of no where really, just a large farming area with endless fields filled with wheat and corn. Nothing structural for miles, and if there was anything they were hidden by the rolling hills around them. He supposed that she had been right about the isolation of the residence. "So where to now?"

"About ten minutes up that road," the woman replied, pointing towards a dirt road that traveled up one of the hills surrounding them. With a shrug of indifference, he made towards it, walking along side her.

Once again they traveled in silence, the only sound being the crunching of dirt under their feet. For some reason Draco had the urge to break the silence, to keep himself from hearing the hallow sound of the dirt, but couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing until something popped into his mind.

"That bird," he began slowly, rewarding him with the indifferent face of the Weasley turned towards him. He pushed on despite her lack of attentiveness. "The owl. He's the one that delivered the letters, isn't he?"

The red head stared at him for a moment, and he could not tell what was going on in her head. It was almost as if she was debating whether or not he was trustworthy enough to know about her precious pet. As if he was a fiend who took sadistic pleasure in hurting birds.

"Yes," she replied after a moment, the sound of their feet ever present. Apparently she thought that he was trustworthy enough after all. Somehow this didn't make him feel very trusted at all. "Yes, he delivered all of my warnings."

'Warnings' he thought. 'What a simple way to put them.' They had been warnings of imminent death. Twenty four hours to save your own hide. Sometimes it had been even less than that, or so he had heard. But judging by the recovery time the woman took after a premonition it didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"Oh," was all that he found he could say. But really, what was there _to_ say?

If he had thought of anything else to add, he never would have had the chance to voice it anyway for it was at this time that they came to the top of the hill. Draco looked down onto the flat land that stretched out before them, all questions gone.

It was a quaint little place, as far as he could tell, but it screamed Weasley. From the slanting little house with its mismatched and chipping paint, to the few chickens that scattered across the front lawn. He was almost expecting a cow to lumber its way over to the flower bed, filled with a selection of mundane perennial plants. The cornfield to the left of the house and the small forest and lake to the right seemed to emphasize the primitiveness of the residence, though Draco wasn't exactly sure how it. It was a pitiful place for the Minister for Magic to live in.

How could the leader of a nation live in such a display of poverty? The residence of a leader should scream the prestige and power of the people. This, this _shack_, was nothing but a joke compared to Fudge's old residence or the man who had held the position before him. But then, Arthur Weasley was leading in a different and "revolutionized" fashion. Perhaps this was one of the marks. Draco resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust.

He was mildly surprised that Ginny did not make a comment about the house and his obvious distaste for it. If anything she was resolute on not saying anything, a complete turn around from when they had been beyond the hill. He would suspect that the hill had prevented the animosity from traveling over with them, but he knew it was a ridiculous thought. That part of their relationship would never leave. Only the little girl seemed to be the cure.

They made their way up the porch steps, and he was rather disappointed to not hear any creaks or groans of age. They were as silent as if they had been installed yesterday, though their appearance suggested otherwise. Yet there was an absence of cobwebs or dirt and he began to realize that perhaps the place simply looked like trash but was taken care of as though it was a manor like his own. Which was a thought Draco did not want to ponder.

They came to a stop in front of the blue painted door where an ornate looking knocker, in the shape of a fox, hung. Draco reached out for it, intending to knock and announce their presence, when the red head's hand shot out and gripped his wrist. He turned and looked at her with annoyance. She was looking at the door, straight on, a blank look on her face that had become all too familiar to him. He remained still, watching her, until she turned to look at him, warning now in her eyes.

"I don't care what they say, what they do, Malfoy," she began, her voice absent of emotion, her eyes seemed to fill the void thought. He found he could do nothing but stare at her and listen to what she had to say. "I don't care if they threaten to kill you or insult your family. I want you to do nothing that will ruin this day for my mum." She returned her eyes to the door. "I want you to treat this as a professional event and act accordingly."

"And why should I do this?" Draco sneered, pulling his hand loose of her grip, realizing that she still had a hold of his wrist. He dropped it to his side. "You haven't made my job easy over the past few weeks, why should I make your life easy?"

"Because it's for your own good," she replied, frowning at the door. Then she turned to look at him once more, a scowl on her face now. "My family is going through a lot right now. All they need is something to make them snap. Don't be that something Malfoy, I'm warning you."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but he never quite got the chance as the red head's hand shot out and grabbed the knocker, raising it up and letting it fall with a small "clunk". The clunk then proceeded to echo behind the door, seeming to fill the entire house with their announcement. Draco felt something sink in his stomach. Something he did not entirely like.

After a few seconds the door opened to reveal a short, plump woman with red hair that almost rivaled that of the Weasley beside him. Draco took in the woman's flower print dress, covered over by an apron of a different print. The two articles clashed horribly with each other, and simply screamed Weasley. Yet despite the woman's atrocious selection of clothing, she was beaming at them like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Come in! Come in!" she said happily, ushering the two of them over the threshold and into the Weasley's residence.

Draco glanced around quickly, taking in the small hallway and the sitting room to the left of it. All of the furniture looked worn, and faded, if not rumpled. The rug beneath his feet was fraying in the corners, showing its age. And as the woman before him mismatched, the house itself mismatched. White walls, red curtains, blue and green couches. It was a disgrace to any normal wizard, but for the Minister for Magic to live here? He tried his best not to snort in disgust.

"It's so good to see you, Ginny," her mother cooed, drawing Draco's attention back to the matter at hand. He watched as the short woman pulled her daughter into a hug, causing the younger woman to stoop at an odd angle to accommodate her mother. Draco smirked slightly as the older woman seemed reluctant to let go of the other Weasley. "I am so sorry I wasn't there at the meeting. But you know how it is with your father's job. And they won't let me go to your flat or use the floo-"

"I know mum," Ginny replied, gently prying herself out of her mother's arm. Draco's smirk spread a tiny bit more and she glanced at him, a slight frown creasing her face. Then she turned back to her mum, and smiled once more. "But happy birthday." She gave the shorter woman a quick peck on the cheek, causing her to smile, if possible, even wider.

Draco stood there, watching the exchange, feeling jealousy churn slightly within him. It had been so long since he had seen his own mother smile at him like that... _It's just gone. There's nothing we can do but make her comfortable..._

His reminiscing was cut short as he realized the short woman was looking at him, turning her smile on him. He didn't think it was quite possible for a Weasley to smile at him as she was doing, but apparently it was. Draco stood there, staring at her, waiting for the smile to drop, but what happened next took him completely by surprise. Seemingly without thought the plump woman wrapped him up into a hug as well.

Eyes going wide, Draco looked at his charge. She seemed to be mirroring his own surprise, staring at her mother in disbelief. Draco felt his body go completely ridged, and waited for her to release him. He wasn't used to being hugged by people, let alone Weasley women. No, especially Weasley women.

"I don't know how to thank you enough," the Weasley said, her voice sounding slightly constricted now, muffled by his chest. "Taking care of my baby girl for me..."

He felt in that moment completely thrown out of his element, even more so than the night before. He had had to deal with the relations of his other charges before, but none of them had gone to quite this length to thank him. And unlike the night before, his instincts did not kick in and help him know what to do. So he found himself awkwardly patting the woman on the back, feeling all together unMalfoy-like.

"I am simply doing my job, Mrs. Weasley," he replied, slightly uncertain he was saying the right thing. It came out colder than he had intended, but then, why should he care if he offended her? She was a Weasley after all.

"Molly dear," the woman said, releasing him and stepping back, the smile on her face once more. For some reason he wondered if her daughter had the same smile. But then, he didn't think he had ever seen her smile. Or at least, he hadn't seen her since she was too young to be much of anything. 'Not that she is much of anything now,' he thought disdainfully. "Please call me Molly."

"Molly," he said, dipping his head slightly in compliance.

He heard a door open across the sitting room and turned to see a red headed man walk into the room from what appeared to be the kitchen. Upon seeing them he smiled, and called over his shoulder: "Oi, George, Ginny's here!"

There was a slight scuffle as the man in the door and an exact copy, who appeared from behind the other, made their way over to the aforementioned woman. It took him the slightest second to realize these were those twins. The ones who always made sure he had bludger flying about his head. He frowned at them.

The one that had first made his appearance made it to Ginny first and swept her up into his arms, lifting her off the ground. He watched in slight amazement as the woman allowed this to happen to her, passive as a kitten. She let out a laugh, patting the man on the back. He continued to watch, not sure that this was the same charge he had arrived with, as the man whispered into her ear causing her to giggle. He couldn't remember hearing her giggle before. Not since about the last time he saw her smile like she had no worries. Back in Hogwarts before it all started.

The second twin then gave his sister a hug, lifting her off the ground as well, but spinning her about. He felt his eyes widen in slight surprise. Now she was allowing herself to be spun. It was so against her nature. He heard Molly Weasley gasp, and turned to see that her hands were on her hips, and she was glaring at the scene unfolding before them.

"George!" Molly snapped, beginning to frown. "Put your sister down. I do not want a repeat of what happened last year."

"That was just a fluke, mum," the twin replied, but placed Ginny back on the ground nonetheless. "There's no way that can happen again." Draco didn't quite get the chance to wonder about what might have happened, though he told himself that he didn't really care, because the two men had turned away from their sister and were now looking at him.

He stared back at the two of them impassively, taking in their brightly colored clothing that seemed of far too high of quality to be on a Weasley. He was use to these sorts of showdowns, for it seemed people seemed to enjoy trying to stare him down. They never won though. No one could stare down a Malfoy. Just as it was beginning to become cumbersome, however, the two nodded their heads in unison, acknowledging him. Draco's exterior remained as it was, yet he was almost too startled to do the same in return. Almost.

One of the twins then walked forward and grabbed his sister's hand, who had been watching the proceedings with a smirk. She turned it onto him for a moment, and Draco felt something move inside of his chest. He frowned at her and smirked a smirk of his own as the twin began to pull her towards the kitchen.

"You're late," the twin scolded, pulling on his sister's hand a bit more, forcing her to walk faster.

"Yah," the other added, waggling his finger at her. "Everyone has been waiting for you."

"Somehow I highly doubt that," Ginny replied caustically, yet laughed as if she hadn't just said anything but a snarky comment.

Draco couldn't quite figure it out. It was all so surreal. Here was the most disturbed woman he had ever met, and he didn't quite know when he had exactly realized that she truly was, letting herself be treated like a little child with her family. He knew that she wasn't in any way that docile, that she must have been grinding her teeth together in an attempt not to snap and giver herself away, and yet she was pulling it off as naturally as breathing. And he simply couldn't figure out why she would do it.

Why would she refuse at act herself in front of her family, the people she was supposed to be able to trust the most out of everyone she knew? And yet she revealed herself in full force to strangers like him. Draco realized then that perhaps the side of Ginny that he saw, wasn't truly the real her. Well, it was, but perhaps it was tainted by her animosity towards him. But it still did not explain why she was acting like a docile animal. She had more fury in her, regardless of why it was that he saw it. Why would she not expose that part of herself to her family, the people she could trust?

"Come along, dear," the last Weasley in the room said to him in a polite voice, bringing him out of his revere once more. "You might as well go out and meet the rest of them." With this said the plump woman began to shoo him outside.

He traveled through the door and into the kitchen the three other red heads had disappeared into. White walls and cupboards, large old oak table, and several chairs greeted his eyes. As well as large bowls of various sorts of foods, which the plump woman went to attend to. 'How can she cook for her family on her birthday?' he wondered. His mother never would have done that. And yet, his mother never had actually cooked many meals. He could only remember her actually doing it twice, but the circumstances were ones that he did not want to recall ever again.

He moved to the screen door that prevented the outside from getting in the house. As nothing else in the house seemed to squeak, this door was no exception. He walked out and came to a stop on the concrete steps that lead down into the backyard. He looked around at the large space, overrun by plants and redheaded individuals. Just looking at it he could hear his mother's cry of disgust, if she had been standing next to him at a time when she could still recognize overrun plants.

That had always been one of Narcissa's pet peeves: a proper garden. She had always insisted that the garden had to look just so, plants trimmed nicely, flowers in rows, the dirt nicely leveled and healthy black in color. It was probably one of the reasons why he still insisted that the house elves take care of the garden in the back, regardless of the fact that no one had walked through it in over five years.

Shaking his head slightly, he tuned his attention to the people outside, tracking down his charge. He spotted her, making her way away from the twins, and two other redheaded males, one of which he recognized as Arthur Weasley, the other the pompous Head Boy he had had to endure in his third year. He watched the older males look after her with concerned looks on their faces, clouded by smiles. Draco wondered if she had seen through them. He had a feeling that she had.

Next she went towards a rather large group of women, all who were seated in lawn chairs under the shade of a huge willow. He could hear their high voices from where he stood and their trills of cheerful greeting as well. Ginny stood with them for a few moments, laughing along with them, then left their group as well. The group of women's collective voices dropped into whispers. He knew what they were suddenly so interested in. By the set of Weasley's shoulders, he suspected she did as well.

His eyes followed her as she then traveled towards a third group of people, consisting of two tall red heads, the shorter and most freckly of which had a pretty brunette hanging off his arm. The tallest one gave her a hug, and then held her at arm's length. Whatever he told her was lost to Draco, but he watched as the other two in the group nodded in agreement. Whatever it was caused Ginny to smile slightly but it did not take long before she was making her way towards the final group. The Dream Team.

She was halfway there, when there was a rustling in the trees beside the woman. She stopped to look at it, peering into the darkness. Draco took several steps forward, making his way down the steps and onto the ground.

"All right guys, you know what to do!" a voice suddenly called from inside the trees. "Attack!"

Draco moved quickly forward, that feeling of panic that he was so familiar with returning. He wasn't quick enough unfortunately as nearly a dozen small bodies came rushing out of the tree, moving quickly towards the red headed woman. Draco came to a halt as he watched them connect with her legs, causing her to yelp in surprise and crash to the ground.

He looked around the yard to see all of the occupants watching with amusement as the children sat on the woman and effectively pinned her, laughing the whole while. He realized that the people were laughing as well, some at their children's antics while others were looking at him: the Protector who couldn't even save his charge from a herd of children. He shrugged it off and strolled towards his charge, grinning slightly as he watched her struggle.

"Help!" Ginny called out, as the kids began to squirm and tickle her, kicking up a huge cloud of limbs and red and multicolored hair. "Someone help me!"

Draco glanced around again, watching as none of the others moved to help her, either continuing to laugh, or turning back to their previous conversations. He had a feeling that this game of jump-the-Weasley was not that uncommon then. To prove his point, one of the twins began to cheer one of his kids on.

He came to a stop a few feet from her, out of range of flying limbs. He leant against a large tree that was beside the bushes and watched her struggle. She was laughing, shrill laughter cause by little, tickling hands, but it was still laughter. And as he stood there, her eyes fell on him and they had a rather desperate look to them that was altogether pathetic. Her cheeks red once more though, as they had been the day before, and they seemed to make her look more alive than ever. The feeling returned.

"Malfoy, help me!" she cried pitifully, letting out a shriek of laughter shortly after.

He knew it was his job to protect her, but he didn't move away from his tree. Instead he just watched her, smirking all the way, causing her to frown up at him. It seemed to him that as her Protector he was supposed to look out for her wellbeing and this tickle attack did not seem to be doing her any harm. If anything he thought it was doing her some good. It was making her seem alive again. Less jaded. His smirk spread, causing her frown to deepen.

"I think you can manage just fine on your own," he drawled at her, waving his hand dismissively from his position against the tree. Her frown turned to a glare, but only for an instant as she let out another shriek of laughter. Apparently the children had found a sensitive spot.

"Some Protector you are!" she hissed shrilly as the kids giggled and shrieked with their own laughter.

Draco watched, realization filtering into his brain. It seemed that in that moment, that moment of watching her and the children, and only that moment that he realized what it was he was truly protecting.

o-o-o

Harry Potter found himself sitting on the Weasley family's swinging swing, watching as his best friends' three children, along with several other Weasley youngins, attacked their red headed aunt. Ginny had always been good with children, which in turn made her good with people as well. Harry had always found it to be one of her most endearing qualities. As he watched her laugh, her lovely skin going red with excitement and motion, he felt a pang of loss, the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time.

He hadn't exactly had the time as of late to really think about her brush off, even though it had been over a couple of weeks ago. It had been a numb feeling, a surreal feeling, when it had first happened. Somehow he just knew that they would end up together as they always did, despite the determination that had been in her voice this time round. Then she had had her vision and Harry no longer had time to really stop and think about what he was missing.

After that moment all he had to think about was the fact that Voldemort hadn't died. That the prophecy, the prophecy that so many people trusted their lives and world in, had failed. Had been wrong. That all his efforts and angst that he had endured during his teen years had been in vain. That he had worked so hard to defeat the bastard for good, and yet he had returned as if it were a ten year anniversary or something equally as twisted.

There had then been the business about his heir. He had always wondered how such a powerful individual could not want to create an heir. But it made sense really. If he thought himself invincible, why would he need someone to replace him? He would never die so it was not necessary. So then why had Voldemort gone through all the trouble of having a child? Especially when he had been young. Harry remembered how arrogant Tom Riddle had been when he had met him in the Chamber of Secrets. How sure of himself he had been. How sure he had been that he would live on Ginny's life.

And now that bastard, that want-to-be Dark Lord, was attempting once more to live off the woman's life. Whether it was intentional this time or not was beyond him. All Harry really knew was that the last time Ginny had had to go through all this she had been a complete wreck when it had finally ended. It had taken him ages to try and piece her back together. To get her to stop calling out in her sleep. But he could only do so much. He knew he hadn't done the best of jobs. That much was obvious in the way she acted now. She hadn't made it easy though. She had always resisted. Always tried to prove to everyone that she was strong, stronger than she truly was. And Harry knew that this stubbornness, this irrational ambition to prove herself, would give Malfoy a run for his money. And it worried him.

"Look at him," Ron hissed from the opposite side of Hermione. Harry turned away from his thoughts to stare at his red headed friend. The man was scowling at his sister, or rather, her bodyguard. "The way he stands there you would think that he owned her or something."

Hermione let out an irritated tutting noise. A noise so familiar and comfortable to Harry's ears. He instantly knew that the two of them had been arguing over Ginny's Protector for quite some time. He was slightly surprised that he hadn't heard anything about it until now, seeing as he had seen them almost everyday since the meeting. "Honestly, Ron. He's just doing his job." She frowned up at her husband. "And you know how Ginny is. If he didn't act like that there would be no point of him being there at all."

"I still don't like it," Ron insisted, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, the man had grown up, but he could still be as stubborn as ever. It really did run in the family, now that he thought about it. "Malfoy is still the same slimy git he always was. Why should we trust him with something as important as my sister?"

"He proved himself worthy during the war, Ron, you know that," Hermione responded reasonably, the know-it-ally tone once again surfacing. Harry thought that there would be something seriously wrong with the world if she ever lost that tone.

"Whatever," Ron muttered, his shoulders drooping but his eyes still trained on the blonde across the yard.

Harry began to look as well. He had to admit that what Malfoy had turned into was a far cry from what he had thought he would be when he was younger. But then, Harry had always thought of the boy as a Death Eater in training back at Hogwarts, so even indifference and neutrality was a far cry. He couldn't exactly say that he was happy for the blonde - far be it for a Potter to be happy for a Malfoy - but he could say that he had some grudging respect for him. For him to have taken himself so far away from what his father had initially intended for him to become. Only someone with extreme determination could pull that off. And Malfoy obviously had it.

"It's funny," Hermione's voice drifted into his head. He one again turned from his thoughts to face her. She was staring at Malfoy as well, but with a pensive look rather than the contemptuous one of her husband. "I always had it in my mind that Malfoy would be more of a mercenary than anything else." Harry and Ron both stared at her. "What? He just sort of seems like the sort of person who would play whichever side he wanted as long as he got the most profit for his deed."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Harry offered after a moment's silence. "I never really thought of it before."

"Neither have I," Ron agreed. He turned his frown to the bushy haired woman beside him. "And what are you doing, thinking about Malfoy all the time?"

"I do not think about him all the time," Hermione snapped, and Harry shook his head. He didn't think he would ever quite get over the way the two of them could be so lovey-dovey one moment and turn against each other like wolves the next. He suspected the makeup sex must be really something. He did not just think that.

Harry was spared from listening to further bickering on the part of his two best friends by the backdoor opening. Mrs. Weasley walked out, dishes of all sorts floating in the air behind her. She directed them over to the already set tables, ready to seat seventeen adults and eleven children. It was always amazing how the woman could cook that much food for so many people and not be frazzled by it. He suspected it was just an extension of what she had lived through all her life.

"Children, get off of your aunt," she called, charming the bowls and such onto the table. Cries of "yes grandma!" and coos of "ooh" were heard in response and the children all scrambled off of Ginny, leaving her on the ground.

Everyone slowly made their way towards the tables, grabbing their running children and chatting happily with each other. Harry found himself watching as Ginny straightened herself out, Malfoy watching the entire time. As the man followed her closely to the table, sitting next to her, Harry began to think that perhaps Ron had had a point. Malfoy was acting rather possessive in a way, standing close, glancing around constantly, looking for danger he supposed, but his eyes would always return to Ginny, watching her.

For the entire lunch, Harry found that he couldn't quite pull his eyes away from the two of them. He of course talked to Fred and Ron about Quidditch, and complimented Molly on her wonderful cooking. Signing had also been a requirement, and so had watching Percy's twin daughters wreak their obligatory havoc on their father's meal. Percy had taken it quite well really, taking into account that he was pompous Percy. The twins had really done him some good in forcing him to loosen up. Despite all this entertainment, the cheerful and loving actions of his family, Harry still found himself looking to Ginny and Malfoy.

There was just something off about the way that the blonde sat there, sitting a touch too close to Harry's former girlfriend, that had his brain twitching. 'It's almost as if they were doing... things,' he thought, instantly becoming aghast at what his mind had produced. There was no way that Ginny would ever go that way. Go towards a Malfoy over him. Not that he really had much of a claim on her, but still. She wasn't like that. But, she was under a lot of stress at the moment, he could tell by the set of her shoulders. Could it be possible that she had taken comfort in the other man? Over him?

"Ok, mum," Bill's voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention to the end of the table near Arthur Weasley. "We know that you always tell us not to get you anything for your birthday, and as always, we have completely ignored you."

"It was our influence really, mum," George added, his finger's entwined with those of his pretty sand haired fiancé.

"Yup," Fred agreed, grinning. "You can blame it all on us." Harry laughed as Molly rolled her eyes. She didn't take quite as much offense to the twin's antics anymore. But then, they now seemed tame in comparison to the new generation of Weasley scurrying about the place.

"As I always do," Molly grinned, taking a sip of her wine. Percy simply patted her hand, smiling at his mother in a sympathetic manner.

"We all pitched in," Charlie continued, causing all of the Weasley children to nod in agreement. Harry watched as the buff dragon tamer stood up and pulled a long box out of his pocket. He walked over and gave it to his mum, placing a kiss on her cheek then returned to his seat beside his wife. The two were really a match made in heaven. Both so obsessed with training dragons and caring for them that it was nearly comical. Even their children were being trained to appreciate the creature's dangerous beauty.

Everyone proceeded to watch the older woman as she stared rather suspiciously at the package.

"I wrapped it, if that is what you are worried about," Charlie offered with a knowing grin. It was still a prominent story amongst them all of the time when Fred and George had wrapped the present. Harry still grimaced at the details.

"Yeah mum," Bill soothed. "It's safe. Just open it."

Molly gave out a laugh and did just that. The entire table watched as she carefully pulled the wrapping off, placing it beside her plate, and then pulled the elegant looking box open. "Oh my," she gasped, reaching inside and pulling out an intricate pendant resting on a delicate chain.

Harry hadn't actually seen the present beforehand, he had just pitched in his part of the money. It had been quite a bit too, so he knew that the pendant itself was quite expensive. He could tell, however, that it was a fine piece of jewelry, well worth the price, whatever it had been. It was a heart made from fine strips of god, intricately woven until it looked as though there were forests of willows within the shape. Little stones of various colors were placed within the design, placed there with seemingly great deliberation, placing them in the exact spot they seemed to be needed. It could easily have been a tacky item, but this one was far from.

"Their all charmed to match our eye color," Ron explained, watching as his mother stared in wonder at the pendant, the chain dangling over her hand.

"Bill's, Percy's, Ginny's, Harry's," Molly began to say softly, eyes flicking across the stones. She continued until she had named every one of her children and Harry. "You shouldn't have," she said, smiling a smile that seemed so content. She then proceeded to hug every one of her children, placing big kisses on every cheek. Grandchildren and daughters in-laws, soon to be or otherwise, were not spared. Not even Malfoy escaped.

Once Molly had the pendant around her neck, the conversations started. Harry had always loved this the most about large Weasley dinners: the way everyone would talk to each other, and listen as if what they all had to say was important. And there were always several conversations going at once. Today however, seemed to be a touch different. The children had scampered off, taking to torment the garden genomes. On the far end of the table, where Arthur was sitting, was a conversation about the developments of Voldemort's assumed return and the preparations he and the Ministry were taking. On the opposite end with Molly, all were listening quite intently to the new tales of horror Percy's wife, Karen, was unfolding. The woman, being an author, was quite good at capturing an audience.

Harry couldn't be captured though. Somehow he couldn't focus long enough to really listen to the way they had blown the floor out of their bedroom for the third time this month. Nor could he stomach the facts that the other end of the table were discussing. He had been dealing with the very same facts for the last week or so, ever since the meeting, and he was right sick of them. He didn't want to hear about it anymore.

He had taken an indefinite leave from Quidditch until they had found Voldemort's heir. It had been a hard choice, but the reserve Seeker had needed some playing time, and Harry wasn't as heartbroken over his decision as Ron thought he should be. But Quidditch had never been as large of a passion for him after his fifth year. Everything changed after that. He had wanted so much to be an Auror after his fifth year, after his experience with the DA. As the years went on though, as he had to deal with more and more as Voldemort became stronger and stronger, his ambition slowly dwindled. He had seen too much, done too much, to want to do it for the rest of his life. He had needed a break from all that horror. All of the life-saving responsibility. Quidditch was the only direction he could think of that could offer him anything worth while. It was challenging and it was something he was good at.

Ginny caught his eye then as she turned slightly and whispered something into Malfoy's ear. Malfoy, who was engaged in the conversation about the Ministry's actions, nodded curtly. The red headed woman then turned to the rest of the table. "I think I need to get out of the sun," she told everyone. Once Molly had nodded she made her way into the house. Harry's eyes followed her.

He then sighed, giving a similar excuse, heading towards the house. He had a slight hope to get a word with the woman, seeing as he hadn't spoken to her for the entire time she was here. He wanted to find out what was going on with her and Malfoy, if there was anything. Perhaps it really had been his imagination.

"Wait up mate," he heard Ron call, and turned to see Ron and Hermione walking towards him, hand in hand. Maybe he wouldn't get to ask the questions he had wanted to.

"Had enough of what the terrible duo has done?" he asked, grinning at them.

"Well, the first time round was entertaining," Hermione said thoughtfully, as the trio made their way towards the house. "But I already heard this one at lunch yesterday. Repeat performances are never quite the same."

Ron grinned and pulled Hermione closer. Harry held the door open for them, and they walked through with a laugh. Upon entering the kitchen they spotted Ginny looking into the fridge, a dejected slouch to her shoulders that Harry knew all too well.

It was the slouch that she would host when she was upset about something, but it was always a struggle trying to find out what exactly the problem was. More often than not he never found out. It was one of the reasons why he would break up with her so often over the years: he simply couldn't take the way she didn't seem to trust him. He hated days when he would come home and she would be looking like that.

"Gin, are you alright?" Ron asked, slinking his way onto a chair at the kitchen table. Harry watched as Ginny straightened out slightly before turning to face her brother, a slight smile on her face. Harry could tell that it was fake.

"I'm just fine," she replied, a carton of juice in her hands. She closed the fridge, turning her back on the three of them once more as she fetched a glass and poured the last of the carton's contents into it. "I'm just not use to sitting in the sun for so long." She began to wash the carton out in the sink, placing it where the recyclables usually went.

She was keeping herself busy. Yet another habit Harry knew too well. She always kept her hands busy when she didn't want to talk. It was like an excuse, saying that what she was doing had to be done, and what ever he wanted to know could wait. Sometimes she could clean the entire flat in an attempt to avoid answering a question.

When she had turned around again, leaning against the counter, the trio had been seated, all eyes towards her. Harry felt that he was about to interrogate her or something, the way they were all staring at her. He wondered if the other two felt the same way, or if she did.

"Are you sure?" Hermione persisted. "You look awfully pale." Ron seemed to pick up on this at his wife's comment and nodded fervently. Harry noticed it too, but he was used to the woman's unhealthy glow. She rarely ever went in the sun. She had always said it was because she burnt too easily, but he knew there were charms to prevent such occurrences. He knew it was because she simply didn't want to be outside, though as to why was beyond him.

"Maybe you should go lie down or something," Ron suggested, motioning with his freckled hand towards the stairs that would lead her up to her old bedroom.

"I don't need to lie down," Ginny replied, her smile seeming a touch more forced than it should have been. She was slipping up. "I feel just fine. It was just a touch too hot outside."

"You should go outside more," Hermione continued. "Then you won't have this problem." Harry resisted the urge to shut his friend up. Accusing the woman that way would only get her more defensive. But then, the two of them knew that as well, so why were they still doing it?

"I don't have time," Ginny said curtly, the smile slipping ever further. She sipped at her drink. "And what time I do have is hindered by the fact that Malfoy doesn't exactly trust the safety of the outdoors."

"See what I mean?" Ron suddenly hissed. All of them turned to look at him, Harry and Hermione with curiosity and Ginny with a slight frown. "He's controlling her!"

"Who's controlling me?" Ginny demanded, looking steadily more and more defensive.

"Malfoy, that's who," Ron declared, dropping his feet to the floor with a thump. Hermione scowled at him.

"He is not _controlling_ me," the red head spat, drink forgotten in her hand. "He is simply doing his job." Was it just Harry's imagination, or was Ginny defending the man? His thoughts from earlier on resurfaced in his mind. He tried to beat them back down.

"It shouldn't even _be_ his job," Ron growled, frowning now as well.

"Ron," Hermione snapped, glaring at the tall red head. She then turned to Ginny, her face softening. "He's just worried about you, Ginny," she soothed, sounding every bit the way a mother should. It was odd to Harry's ears, yet he couldn't say it didn't suit the woman. "He knows it isn't your fault. That none of it is. You were only a child-"

"Only a-" Ginny sputtered, interrupting the older woman. "Are you suggesting that all of this had to with Riddle's diary?" she then demanded, looking all the more furious. Hermione had the misfortune of nodding at this and Harry watched as Ginny released the temper that had been turned on him more than a few times. He cringed inwardly.

"Are you suggesting that all of _this_." She waved her hand at her surroundings and herself. "Has to do with that stupid diary?" She glared at all three of them, her voice getting louder. "I will have you know that not everything in my life revolves around Tom Riddle. Not everything in my life is connected to that bloody git and Harry needing to save me. I was a child. I got over it. And I certainly do not blame myself for this mess."

Harry stopped. 'Where did that come from?' he wondered, staring at Ginny as her face got ever redder, her breathing more out of control. Yet he couldn't quite help the multiple questions he had always wanted her to answer from running through his head. If it wasn't about Riddle then what was it? Why wouldn't she let them in? Let him in?

"Then why don't you tell us what it all has to do with," Harry found himself saying back, his voice strong, surprising himself. He was also surprised that he had actually voiced the question. He shouldn't have, he knew it. She was upset already, but apparently he couldn't help himself. "Why don't you tell us how we can help you? How we can make your life easier."

"Don't you get it?" she screamed then, slamming her glass down on the counter, shattering it. "There _is_ no way you can help me! And you certainly can't make my life any _easier_. My life will never be easy and none of your superficial pity will ever change that." With this said Ginny turned on her heel and disappeared out of the kitchen and up the stairs, out of sight.

Ron and Hermione sat in stunned silence while Harry pushed his chair back, moving to get up. She had stormed out on him one too many times for him to simply sit there and let her do it.

"Don't," a voice said from behind them, near the kitchen door. Harry turned to see Malfoy standing there, a commanding look on his face that simply irritated him.

"And who are you to tell me that I shouldn't?" Harry found himself hissing, slipping right back into the animosity they had had in Hogwarts. It wasn't as difficult as it should have been.

"I am the person who is authorized to use whatever force I deem necessary in order to protect that woman from harm," Malfoy sneered, seeming to enjoy the power trip he was currently on though he looked completely professional. Harry resisted the urge to snort. "And you storming up there, demanding more of your idiotic questions will only do just that."

Malfoy then strode forward, towards the stairs, without even a glance back at the table.

"And you think you're going to do an even better job than we will, Malfoy?" Ron demanded, getting to his feet. He most likely would have pulled out his wand if it hadn't been for Hermione's restraining hand.

Malfoy simply shrugged. "I haven't seen her get any worse since I started this job." And with this he disappeared around the corner. The sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.

Ron flopped back into his seat and looked sullenly at the embroidered tablecloth. Harry felt inclined to do the same. That hadn't gone in any way, shape or form near as well as he had thought it would. Actually, it had gone the exact opposite. He had expected her to get a little mad, but not to the extent that she had. And he certainly hadn't been expecting Malfoy to get involved.

"We screwed up, didn't we?" the red head finally muttered, head still hanging. Harry could only bring himself to nod in agreement. That they had. That they really had.

o-o-o

Ginny stood in her bedroom, chest heaving, her mind screaming at herself not to cry. She refused to cry over that. She refused to show the weakness they so blatantly thought she had. Yet why had she over reacted as she did? It wasn't as if they had been doing anything terribly wrong until after she blew up at them. They had just bee trying to help. Rather tactlessly, but still trying to help.

She let out a frustrated sigh and glared at herself in her mirror. Her childish mirror that seemed too pink to be considered anything but a little girl's belonging. The haggard woman glaring back at her seemed to contrast with the whole room, seeming mature and jaded while the room was still childish and innocent. Stuffed animals stared vacantly at her from across the room, resting on the top of her dresser. The aqua walls glinting slightly in the dimming light. She absently wondered how it had gotten so late.

There was a knock at the door, causing her to jump slightly. She turned towards it, fearing who would be on the other side.

"Leave me alone!" she called to whoever it was. If it was really who she thought it was then her words were futile.

"I wish I could, Weasley," a voice drawled to her from the other side. She mentally groaned, shaking her head at even thinking that it wouldn't have been him. Her screwed up knight in shinning armor. "But we both know I can't do that."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," she snarled, turning away from the mirror and looking out the window. She could see the sun dipping down behind the large willow trees in the yard. She had always loved her room for this reason. She had always thought that the west side of the property was the prettiest one of all. There was just something mystic about it. Something that was hard to find in a world full of magic.

"Just open the door," he said calmly, his voice traveling through the wood.

"It's not like it's locked or anything," she found herself saying, defeated. It wasn't like she could keep him out forever. He was always trying to get in. It was his job, after all. Or at least he considered it to be.

She watched the reflection in the window to see the door open and him step in. A more considerate person would have glanced in first, but Malfoy was never one to take other people's discomfort into account. She silently watched as he looked around the room, closing the door behind him while he did it. Even without the window she could tell that he was sneering at her simple furniture and pink bed sheets.

"What the hell is this place?" he sneered, stopping in the center of the room, standing on her Herald the Happy Hippogriff floor mat.

Ginny slowly turned around, keeping her face as neutral as possible. It wouldn't do to go scowling at him as well. Well, at least not at the moment anyways. "This is my old bedroom," she replied simply, looking around as well. She had loved the room when she had been younger. It had been her haven. Her only place to escape. It was just a room now.

"That explains a lot," he drawled, smirking at her slightly. Ginny felt the anger she had felt at the trio begin to flare up once more.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy," she asked him, keeping her voice even. "If you've come up here to prove that you are the one who is going to save me, then you can leave right now. You can't do any more than they can. Less I suspect." She frowned slightly at his impassive mask. "So you can just leave and save us both the time."

"No wonder they don't understand you, Weasley," he drawled, looking down at the nails on his left hand, his right securely in his pocket. He made quite an image like that, dressed completely in his customary black against a child's backdrop. "You are either sitting their like the world is going to end and you are all alone or you scream and rave like a lunatic." He paused. "How can you act as if you are the only one there when you are surrounded by so many of them?"

"But I am alone," she found herself whispering, more to herself than to him. She didn't even think that he had heard her, not that she really cared.

She really was alone, now that she thought about it. Even if she was surrounded by all of her family, none of them really understood what it was like to be her. Understood what it felt like to have to live her life the way she did. To always know that at any given moment she could see the death of yet another innocent. See yet another atrocity that she would never forget. She had no one who understood. And none of them could even understand that.

"You're not as alone as you think," Malfoy said in response. Apparently he did hear her whisper. "I don't know what goes on in that head of yours, but this solitary confinement that you are inflicting on yourself is ridiculous. You're only going to make things worse by keeping it all bottled in."

"Oh," Ginny found herself replying dryly. "And I suppose you know all about keeping things bottled in, don't you Malfoy?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to break through the impassiveness on his face. For some reason she had the sudden urge to see hurt in his eyes. To see some of what she felt in someone else. "Mysterious nose bleeds, muttering things in your sleep. If anyone should open up, it's you."

"It's so easy to just pick out someone else's faults, isn't Weasley?" he sneered then. "To simply look at other's issues and ignore your own, using them to try and keep others from finding your own." He narrowed his eyes then, looking suddenly more like a predator than he should have. "You think that you are the most injured person in the world; that no one else could ever suffer near as much as you have. That their issues are petty in comparison to your own and should be used to protect you, because jaded Ginny Weasley is in the room."

"But they can't!" she burst out, startling herself, but not him. It seemed nothing she could do could startle him. "No one else sees everything I have seen. No one else has to _feel_ everything that I have to feel. No one else has to see it over and over in their heads!"

"Perhaps not," Malfoy growled. "But it doesn't mean that other people are not in pain. And not the kind of pain that the Dark Lord inflicts directly. Other people in this world are suffering too Weasley."

"Don't you think I know that?" she demanded, taking a step towards him. The look was still on his face, but she found that it didn't scare her as much as it should have.

"Really?" he asked in response, cocking his head slightly. "Then why do you use your issues to hurt your family? Or is it that you feel that if you have to suffer, then they should have to suffer as well. Because that is exactly what you are doing."

Ginny froze. Was he right? Was she really using her pain to hurt her own family? To make them suffer as she felt that she was suffering? Was she truly that selfish? A deepening dread told her that she was. That she was childish and selfish, pushing them all away so that she wouldn't have to deal with their pity. Wouldn't have to see their caring and concerned face. Wouldn't have to see the way they looked when they thought that they had done something wrong by not being able to help her.

"What the hell do you know?" Ginny spat, not caring really what she was saying. So the git had been right, she wasn't about to confirm this with him. "It's not like you act any different. You always look down on people. You always see yourself as far more than you are. You hurt people so that you can feel better about yourself. You use your power and influence so that you can feel significant."

His mask was beginning to crumble slightly, and Ginny couldn't help but feel a perverse satisfaction at this feat. "But you're nothing more than a spoiled brat who was never denied anything in his sad and pathetic life." She grinned sardonically at him then. "You're no better than your father."

She didn't realize he had moved until she felt her back slam up against the wall, the wind whooshing out of her, his large hand resting between her collarbones. She stared at him wide-eyed, her vision slightly spotty. Perhaps she had hit her head as well.

"I am nothing like my father," he rasped at her, his breath coming out in short pants, his face inches from her own. She looked up into his gray eyes, gasping as she tried to get air back into her lungs. There was something so very cold about them suddenly. Something so furious and angry and all together horrible, that caused Ginny to shiver. Yet as she stared hopelessly into them, finding her limbs unwilling to move, she couldn't help but notice that there was something beneath the anger and the hate.

"I've never seen anything to prove the contrary," she managed, still trying to fill her lungs. Her head was swimming slightly, spots still floating about her eyesight. The heat of his body and his breath on her face wasn't helping matters much either.

"Bull shit," he hissed, his eyes narrowing.

Her eyes went a touch larger, and she opened her mouth to speak. This time no words came out of her lips. Malfoy's eyes widened in sick realization then and he loosened the pressure of his hand on her collarbones and it suddenly became much easier to breathe. She took in deep breaths, trying to make the spots clear.

He turned away from her, and Ginny leant back against the wall, her breathing finally returning to normal. Her heart was still pounding though and her brain couldn't exactly form coherent thoughts. Everything was blank and all that was really going on was that she was standing there and nothing else really mattered. She didn't feel that she could be bothered to move ever again if given the chance.

Yet under this disjointed feeling she could sense something trying to get through to her. Something was screaming at her from under it, but it was muffled. As she stood there silently it began to get louder, brining reality with it. Then she heard it, really heard it: 'You screwed up, Ginny,' she heard her mind say to her. She instantly knew it was right. Pushing herself off the wall, she took a step forward, reaching out for the man in front of her.

"Malfoy," she said quietly, reaching out for his arm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't," he snapped, jerking his arm out of her grasp. She stared at where her arm had been placed, reality becoming more and more focused. More and more painful.

"I will," she snapped back, grabbing his arm once more, clamping on as if he was the first real thing she had ever touched. "It was wrong of me to say it. I was out of line. I'm sor-" She never quite got the chance to finish her sentence as Malfoy whirled around, driving her into the wall once more.

Ginny's eyes flew wide as he crushed her lips with his own, clutching onto her shoulders with such a painful grip that she could feel her skin bruising. She watched as his eyes slid shut, the disjointed feeling all but gone, replaced by something else. Something new.

Before she really realized what it was that she was doing, she was kissing him back, fighting back against his bruising ministrations. As her eyes slid shut she knew, somewhere in the back of her head she knew, that there was no turning back. Her hands made their way into his hair, and some part of her brain realized that it was softer than she ever expected it to be, but it didn't stop her from gripping it, pulling at it.

Malfoy growled deep in the back of his throat, moving his hands from her arms, up to her neck, pressing himself harder against her. The calloused skin moved up, encircling her neck, and she could not have even dreamt that he could hurt her, for he had deepened the kiss, driving his tongue into her mouth. There was now more to battle with.

Ginny couldn't think. Nothing exactly mattered anymore, or rather, did not factor in anymore. All that was really relevant at the moment was that his lips were on her and his hands had moved into her hair, mimicking the motions of her own hands, kneading and pulling, creating a painful yet exciting shiver to travel through her.

That was all that really mattered. Her family outside, enjoying her mother's birthday party didn't matter. The Dream Team in the kitchen didn't factor in either. Nor did Voldemort and his minions from hell. None of it mattered. It could all just disappear as long as Malfoy stayed.

His right hand shifted then, pressing down into her skin so harshly it was as if he was trying to feel every vessel, every muscle, every bone, as he went along. It traveled down her neck, making it more difficult to breathe than was currently an issue. Passed over her collarbone, past her pounding pulse, towards her heart. It wasn't until he reached the top of her dress that panic kicked in and her hand shot out and stopped him.

"Don't," she gasped, ripping her lips away from his. He simply stared at her, no expression on his face at all. The only way she could tell that he had experienced anything was the dark color of his eyes, the slight blush on his cheeks, the disheveled hair, and his heavy breathing.

She turned her eyes away from his, reality suddenly returning with a vengeance. She felt her eyes go wide once more with realization, realization of what they had done. 'No,' she thought numbly, 'Not Malfoy.'

She slowly realized that she was clutching his hand, driving it into the soft flesh above her heart. She released it as if it had burnt her, feeling something plummet in her stomach. Not wanting to feel the sensation, she placed both hands on Malfoy's chest and tried to shove him away. He didn't move.

"Please," she said, her voice unsteady. "Please just..." but her voice died in her throat. He continued to stare at her blankly and she wondered if he had heard her at all. Just as she was thinking that he hadn't he stepped back, looking away. She stayed there, looking at him. What had just happened?

The thought was instantly washed from her mind though as her head felt like it was splitting. She let out an utterance of surprise, realizing the moment she had dreaded had finally arrived. She had just enough time to grab her head when the rest of it came; washing over her as though the lightning had shot through her once again.

She didn't even hear herself screaming as her vision turned red, images shooting at her. There were flames, people screaming, people falling. She screamed with them. Then everything went white, so white she thought she would go blind. It faded though, as brightness tends to do and then she saw it. The image she had always dreaded to see. The image that she never wanted to face.

It was her father.

Ginny felt herself fall to the ground, feeling like a rag doll tossed aside after a brutal play session. She didn't bother to move as the pain left her, leaving the image it had brought burned into her eyes. If she closed them it simply came into better focus, so she left them opening, staring at nothingness.

"Weasley?" she heard Malfoy asked. There was something in his voice that she could not identify. Did not care to identify. "Weasley!" She felt him shake her body, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It hurt to move. The force of his shaking caused her head to lull to the side and she found that if she focused slightly she could see his eyes, wide with, concern, staring down on her. "Say something."

Ginny blinked, slowly, cringing at what she saw. This blink seemed to speak novels to the blonde, as his strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her up, off the ground. The trip in the air caused her head to spin, but still she did not move. 'No,' she thought dully. 'No...'.

Malfoy placed her down on her childhood bed, and she could hear the springs creak. It had always creaked, for as long as she could remember. She suspected Charlie had jumped on it when it had been his bed.

She felt like she was a spectator at a Muggle movie as Malfoy's head swirled around, his arms, which were still around her, moving her slightly as he looked out the window. She watched as his eyes went wide, not realizing that anything could be more wrong than already was. Her father was going to die.

"Hang on!" Malfoy's voice yelled painfully in her ear. She felt her body being brought into the air once more as Malfoy flung her over the edge of the bed, his body crashing down on top of her. It was at that moment that a blue light, tingling with powerful magic, flashed into existence from the window.

The room erupted into flames.

o-o-o

A/N: Well, there you go. A little D/G action. Now I hope you are all happy and leave me alone forevermore. Ha. Like that will ever happen. Anyhoo, a nice cliffy for you all to enjoy. Now I can finally move onto the chapter that I have been plotting for like a year...

Many thanks to: **Hplova4eva, KeeperOfTheMoon**(Trust me, it is about to get a lot more depressing. But if you like that, it's a good thing then)**, iluvminidrew, ebb**(Oh, you will find out soon enough...)**, meena2**(Really? I think it's very different from the rest of my stories, I wouldn't say it's the best. But thanks:D)**, aurora borealis1**(Meh, you never know. I am a sucker for happy endings. I didn't just say that...)**. Lallie**(Well, I did claim that I was writing this one for myself. So why not? How has it changed?)**, rose petel** and **Queen of Night.**


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